That Empty Feeling of Being Full
by DeathOfSanity
Summary: All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on. But the price of letting go is having to embrace one's here and now. Can McGee do that before one of his own succumbs to a tragic end?
1. Zombie

**That Empty Feeling of Being Full**

**AN: This story requires some explanation. As it turns out, I tend to like to write stories that people wouldn't chose to read at first glance; the supernatural genre, for one. Though, if you chose not to read this story, you will be missing out. This story is much the same. First of all, only three canon characters show up, in context anyway. Secondly, most of the cast of this story are of my own creation. I like them; however, you are entitled to your own opinion. If you haven't been deterred already, then I will give a few details that you need to know beforehand, and then we will get to the main feature.**

**The setting is about ten years into the future. McGee is the main character. He now has his own team, consisting of three new characters, and he sits in Gibbs' old desk. Ziva also has her own team, consisting of three new characters, one of which is added at the beginning of the story, and they are situated in the space that E.J.'s team resided, for however short a period. Now this is the sad part, but don't fret, by the end, I hope to work you through it; both Gibbs and Ducky have died years prior to the beginning of this story. Tony and Abby have moved on and moved away. Palmer is still around as the resident M.E.**

**Also, I named the chapters after songs which I think are appropriate. If you chose to listen to them while reading, it may enhance the experience, but it is not necessary.**

**This story is about learning how to let go of the past and embrace the here and now; for, really, what else do we really have.**

Chapter One: Zombie

Zombie—The Cranberries

_You can't hold onto the past forever  
>But the past can hold onto you as long as it wants to.<em>

* * *

><p>McGee had a feeling that Ziva was about to lose it. It was her third probie in a month. The director had recently decided that it was time for her to have a fourth person on her team and had been assigning them like wildfire. The first two had only lasted a week before being scared off—the second one had actually cried. McGee had never imagined that he would see the day when a former Marine, almost twice Ziva's size would shed tears. But Ziva had never been good with new people.<p>

McGee sat at his desk with his hands behind his head, trying not to laugh as Ziva threatened the new kid with her letter opener. Angela DeLuca—a.k.a. Angel—was not as good at holding in a snicker. She sat on the shelf beside him twirling a pencil between her fingers. Ziva turned around and narrowed her eyes at Angel from where she stood by the windows. McGee reached up and gave his Senior Field Agent a hard headslap.

"Sorry, Boss," she said, rubbing at the back of her head.

"What part of 'don't apologize' do you still not understand?" he said, giving her an exasperated look.

"Right. Won't happen again."

"You're damn straight. Don't you have paperwork to do?"

"Finished it last night." She scratched her nose with the tip of the pencil.

McGee narrowed his eyes. "I thought you went home before I did?"

"I did. Couldn't sleep."

"Uh huh." McGee turned to his computer, giving Ziva one last glance. She appeared to have calmed down slightly, the brand new addition to her team apparently having come to his senses and apologized for calling her ma'am.

After a minute, McGee turned back to angel. "Hey," he said forcefully.

"Yeah, Boss?" she smiled.

"Go away."

She jumped up quickly and went back to her desk—right where McGee used to sit and Tony before him. "Have you heard from Matt or Shauna?" Angel called.

McGee didn't look up. "They still have twenty minutes."

"Sure, sure," she said, putting her feet up on the desk.

McGee glared at her until they fell back to the floor and her hands went to the keyboard. He sighed and ran his hand thought his hair. Even after eight years with Angel, she was still a pain in the ass. The higher up in the ranks she got, the more obnoxious she became. An ex-Sacramento cop, she joined NCIS for the guns and the babes—as in girl babes. At first, Tony thought it was hot, but he soon figured out that she was just more competition for him to deal with. Gibbs, of course, thought it was hilarious, and that was one of the reasons he assigned her to his team.

It was two years after that that Gibbs took a bullet to the chest. It was nothing like the movies, there was no hail of gunfire, no slow-motion exchange of bullets, just some stupid kid who didn't know when to back down. He bled out very quickly—there was no time to say goodbye. That day had haunted McGee for years after the fact. It wasn't long after that that Ducky went, leaving Palmer with his title and a broken heart. At least he went peacefully.

A loud slap brought McGee out of his reverie. He looked up to see that Angel had wandered off near the elevators. She was trying to look hurt as Maxine Forrester, junior agent on Ziva's team, stalked over to her desk, shaking her dark hair, which went perfectly with her dark Native American skin, in frustration.

Ziva was nowhere to be found, thank God. The first and last time Angel had tried to hit on her resulted in a broken rib and a bruised ego. McGee stood up and pointed to Angel's desk. She bowed her head and lumbered back over.

Right at that moment, the elevator dinged and a tall woman with long red hair in a high ponytail and cowboy boots stepped out of the elevator. If looks could kill…. Sarah Winchester, another of Ziva's team, she looked scary happy, as usual. She waved to McGee as he sat back down and went over to place her backpack on the ground in the area on the other side of the wall behind McGee, where E. J. Barret's team used to reside, and let her curls out of the band.

"Hey, Max. What's wrong?" she asked her coworker with that Texan twang of hers when she saw her seething in front of her computer.

"Angel," she said, angrily, giving said agent a glare of death.

Angel, at least, had the common decency not to look up.

McGee rolled his eyes and focused back on his computer, when his phone rang. "McGee," he answered. Dispatch gave him a location. "I'll be right there." He hung up.

"Dead Petty Officer at Rock Creek Park. Call Shauna and Matt. I'm not gonna wait long."

Angel was tripping over herself from the second his phone hit the base. She pulled out her cell and hit the speed dial while hightailing it to the elevator. McGee took his time, and went for the stairs instead. He smiled at Ziva as she walked past him with the new kid.

"Grab your gear!" he heard her yell as he opened the door to the stairs, followed by shuffling and a loud "Umph!" likely as something was shoved into the probie's stomach. Maxine had clearly found a way to take out her anger on Angel.

McGee smiled as he descended. He wondered if this one could hack it better than his predecessors. Ziva had had the same team all eight years after she left, and the director seemed to think that it would fun to change it up. Director Matthews had a thing about fun. In a team of only women, every single one of the new additions had been men.

Poor kid.

His team was already assembled beside a crime scene van. Angel and Matt Jericho—an ex-CIA operative who specialized in Afghanistan, added to the team when Gibbs passed—were making a bet on how long the Probie would make it before he cried: two hours or three hours. Shauna St. Clair was smiling at them as she loaded their bags into the back of the van.

McGee crept up on them and stated suddenly, "Save it for the ride home."

Shauna jumped and Angel grinned. "In the back, Probie!"

Matt rolled his eyes and climbed into the far side followed by Angel and then McGee.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to let me sit up there just once," Shauna called from the back.

"Yeah, but you'd feel really bad if it did."

* * *

><p>The drive was fairly uneventful. Angel and Matt bickered, as usual, and only a couple of bruises were acquired on Shauna's part when McGee had to stop short at a street light and once on a tight curve that he took too fast.<p>

It gave McGee some time to drift off in thought. It was two years after Gibbs and Ducky passed that Ziva requested her team be reassigned back to D.C. when she was given custody of her newly orphaned thirteen-year-old nephew, Natanael—her cousin's child. She wanted him to have a stable life, and Paris wasn't stable. Natanael didn't speak for three months after she brought him back, having witnessed his parents' deaths. He'd had problems, but the now seventeen-year-old was happy and prepping to go to college. He had more opportunities here than in Israel, and Ziva was happy for him. She loved him like her own, even though they had only met once before the tragedy.

It was three years before now, however, that the most unexpected thing had happened. Both Tony and Abby decided to go for someone their own age, and eloped in Vegas. Everyone was shocked when they came back with matching black diamond rings on their fingers and tattoos of each other's names. They just suddenly realized that they were exactly what the other needed. Someone who liked what they did, with equally spontaneous natures. Apparently, according to them, that was what love was. They were both nearing fifty and wanted something familiar. They went to Hawaii on their honeymoon and wound up staying. They got themselves transferred to the NCIS office at Pearl Harbor, leaving McGee to take care of Angel and Matt as team leader.

McGee's attention had to go back to the road when he started to hit cops with handheld stop signs and barricades. He showed his badge and rolled up to the new crime scene. They all got out of the truck and McGee strode to the yellow tape, leaving his team to get the equipment.

Palmer was already there. He and Tony had been shocked to learn that it really was Ducky who was bad at directions. "Hey, Tim," he called, raising his hand as he got out of his own truck. He normally didn't come alone, but his assistant had recently quit and he was still looking for a replacement. "I'll just get the body and go. Ziva's got one on the other side of the park."

"Really?" McGee asked as they met by the crime scene tape.

"Yeah," Palmer held up the tape for McGee, but dropped it right in front of Angel's face. "Weird, huh?"

"Coincidence."

"But you don't believe in coincidences, do you, Boss?" Angel said, coming up behind them camera in hand.

"Nope."

He looked around; the body was lying on the ground, curled inward. Her dark brown hair was clogged with dirt and leaves. She had obviously been there a while. Her face and arms were also covered in grime and there were rips in the tight jeans that she wore, along with the low cut top. Party clothes, but they looked like they had been worn for a couple of days before she died.

Angel took a few photographs from different angles and then Palmer turned the girl on her back. "She's way past rigor mortis," he said. He pulled out his liver probe. "More than a day, but less than a week. Might have been here the whole time, but nobody noticed her." He pointed at her neck, where two distinct purple handprints were visible. "Looks like she was strangled."

Matt and Shauna showed up as Palmer went to insert the probe. He paused. "What is it, Doctor?" Matt asked.

Palmer lifted the shirt completely off the victim's stomach and Shauna gasped. Right above her belly button, was a small cross carved into the flesh. Angel snapped another picture.

"Let me see that memory card," McGee said, holding out his hand to her. Angel gave it to him and he inserted it into his phone.

"What are you doing?" Shauna asked.

McGee was still trying to shake the feeling of dread that had come over him. "Asking Ziva if she has the same thing at her crime scene." He typed 'look familiar?' into the text box and hit sent just as Palmer pulled out the liver probe.

"Three days," he declared. "Give or take a couple of hours."

McGee nodded. "St. Clair."

"Yes," Shauna answered.

"Help the doctor with the burrito wrap and when you're done, start collecting evidence around here." He pointed to the area around the body. She nodded and ran off. "Matt,"

"Canvas the scene," he said, nodding his head.

"I want to know who's been here."

"Yes, Boss."

"Angel,"

"Sketch and take some more photos."

McGee nodded. "And then help Matt after you talk to the witnesses." He handed back her memory card.

"You got it, Bossman."

It was then that McGee's phone rang. Ziva. "Yeah?"

"_I think we have a problem."_

**AN: Slip me a line, if you liked it.**


	2. Run Around

**AN: A few minor fixes were made to the first chapter. Nothing that requires you to look back, but it is an important fact that both victims were strangled and had handprints on their necks.**

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

Chapter Two: Run Around

Run Around - Blues Traveler

_A mingling of conflicting emotions _  
><em>fear…anger <em>  
><em>love…disgust <em>  
><em>loss…grief <em>  
><em>These thoughts remind me of my past <em>  
><em>choices <em>  
><em>mistakes <em>  
><em>regrets <em>  
><em>and fill my mind with doubts.<em>

* * *

><p>McGee rode with Palmer to where Ziva and her team were investigating, not twenty minutes away. The scene was eerily similar; as they walked up, McGee noticed the position of the body: curled up in the fetal position, eyes closed. Though, she had much lighter skin and hair than the other victim. Sarah was asking a question of Ziva, not realizing they had showed up.<p>

"Shouldn't there be more bugs? It looks like she's been here a while."

Palmer spoke up. "It's starting to get a bit cold to have too many, but, yes, I agree that there should be a bit more activity. He squatted by the body. "It does look like she's been here longer," he said to McGee. "Definitely more than five days. Liver probe won't work." He looked up at Ziva. "I'll have to have Bobby run some tests in the lab and let you know." He turned the victim on her back and lifted up her shirt, just like the previous victim.

"Damn," McGee said.

"What does that mean?" Sarah asked.

Ziva answered. "It means we have a serial killer."

"A what?" came a shocked voice from behind McGee. He turned around and was unsurprised to see Ziva's newest team member standing there. His face had gone white as a sheet with a slight tinge of green as he stared down at the body. He caught sight of the marks on her stomach, went paler, and ran off to a nearby tree where he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach.

McGee remembered doing the same thing at his first crime scene.

"Maxine," Ziva called behind her.

"Yeah," Max answered, running over from the other side of the clearing, dark hair flowing over her black jacket.

Ziva pointed, "Go make sure Johnathan is okay."

When Maxine saw the state of her new probie, her face turned gentle. "Yeah, okay." They all watched her walk over, kneel down and place her hand on Johnathan's back where he was still hunched over.

That was Maxine, really badass, but still the sweetest, most caring person in the world. The day that she became jaded would be the end of one of the most loving people McGee had ever known.

He looked back to the body and sighed. He hated serial killers. He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Angel.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"We've got the same situation over here. Come pick me up whenever you get done. I'll send you the directions."

* * *

><p>The investigation seemed to get off the ground a lot easier with eight people working on it. It turned out that Ziva's new agent Johnathan was quite the computer whiz. He didn't go to a big school, just a local university in Maryland, but McGee was impressed by his skill. He was still in shock over the whole situation, but he was determined to do his job the best he could no matter what the obstacles. He had some serious promise, and McGee could tell that Ziva saw it too in the way that she watched him zooming though the Navy records of their two victims.<p>

At least, now Ziva's team would be coming to him for the advanced computer stuff.

The first and most obvious connection was the Navy. Both Petty Officer Mary Stevenson (from McGee's crime scene) and Private Second Class Carrol McKenzie (from Ziva's) were stationed stateside at Norfolk and the Navy Yard in D.C. respectively. They were still working on getting more to connect the two.

At the moment, Johnathan was about to run a search of related murders in the surrounding states, while Angel used her 'people skills' to try and sweet talk D.C. Metro into telling her about any civilian cases that matched the MO. Shauna and Matt were down in Bobby's lab, helping him get through all the evidence. And Sarah and Maxine were in the field running any leads that were called out to them by the rest.

McGee and Ziva were coordinating, making sure all the information was shared and going through the notes of both crime scenes. They were comparing and contrasting the pictures from the scenes when his phone began ringing. He snatched it from his desk, "Yeah, McGee."

Matt's voice sounded in his ear. "Got something."

McGee snapped the phone shut and stood, nodding for Ziva to follow him to the lab.

* * *

><p>Shauna looked over Bobby's shoulder in an attempt to get a feel for what he was doing with the sample of dirt that Palmer had brought up earlier. It was the last thing that he had to get going, for the blood and tissue tests had already been done, which had taken the better part of four hours even with two extra sets of hands. Bobby stood up suddenly, knocking into her and sending her stumbling back.<p>

He turned and smiled good-naturedly at her, and said in his surfer dude accent, "Watch out there, man. I'd hate to see you take a spill into my equipment."

She smiled back with a slight blush, she was kind a clumsy person on a good day. Serial killers, she thought, scrunching her nose. They always screw up my thought process. She stepped back up behind him and watched him add some clear liquid to the test tube. The contents began to separate immediately. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I need to extract the chemicals in the soil so that I can tell where it came from." He held the glass instrument up in front of her face. "See that film on top of the solvent?" Shauna nodded. "That's what I put in the mass spec, and from that I can hopefully get a location other than Rock Creek Park."

"Oh," she looked past the test tube and back at his face. "Cool."

He smiled and turned back to the fume hood where he kept his chemicals. Bobby had long blonde hair that he usually kept in a low ponytail. He was very fond of wearing shorts, sandals, and t-shirts, but McGee having made him go home and change more that once forced him to reconsider. He now wore tennis shoes and jeans, but was resistant in his old faded t-shirts, much to the boss's annoyance. McGee could be quite scary when he was defied, but thankfully, for the most part, Shauna was spared the headslaps, mainly because she wasn't the one who needed a constant attitude adjustment. Angel, on the other hand….

Matt came out of Bobby's inner office where he had been on the computer, taking a look at what about the marks on the abdomen of the two women could be significant. "Find anything?" Shauna asked him.

He shook his head. "Other than the obvious Christian symbolism, there's nothing that really sticks out." He walked like a tiger, silently, as if he was always ready to pounce. Apparently, being in the CIA did that to you; you always had to be aware of your surroundings. Shauna wished she had that kind of discipline. He didn't speak much, but when called upon, he could formulate a speech reminiscent of the great leaders of the past to get out of a bind. That was why he was particularly good at undercover work.

"You get anything yet?" he asked her, glancing over to what Bobby was working on.

"Still—"

The computer dinged and Bobby quickly placed the sample in the mass spectrometer's tower before coming over to check the results. He scrolled down, the page. "They were drugged." He scrunched his eyebrows. "With the exact same drug. It matches down to the binding agent."

"What kind of drug?" Matt asked.

"Looks like they got hit by the roach."

"The what?" Shauna asked.

"La rocha, mind eraser, lunch money, Mexican valium."

Matt rolled his eyes, and turned to Shauna. "Rohypnol. The date rape drug."

She nodded, "Oh…. That roach."

Bobby looked back to the computer screen. "It looks like a pretty unique formula. Maybe the guy makes it himself."

Shauna said, "Or he uses the same dealer."

Bobby nodded. "Good one, Probay."

Shauna narrowed her eyes at him.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Better let McGee know."

Minutes later, McGee stormed in followed by Ziva. She was quieter than Matt, and much more deadly, according to Sarah. McGee didn't look happy; clearly nothing helpful was being discovered upstairs. "Talk to me, Bobby."

"Right on, dude." Bobby went and grabbed the printout from his office. He handed it to McGee. "Looks like they both got the la rocha. That's tough."

McGee nodded. Of course he knew what that meant. Shauna spoke up, determined not to look like an idiot. "It's possible that it came from the same dealer. It has the exact same chemical composition."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think so?"

She felt suddenly uncertain. "Yes?"

"Yes or no, St. Clair."

She straightened. "Then yes."

He nodded. "Good job." He then turned back to Bobby. "Anything else?"

Matt elbowed Shauna lightly in the side as the forensic specialist went on to explain what he was doing with the soil samples. Matt gave her a small smirk and a wink, and she smiled shyly back at him. It was hard being the probie, especially with such a good agent like McGee, but he wouldn't have put her on his team if he didn't see something in her. To be quite honest, some of the stories she had heard about Special Agent McGee in FLETC were the stuff of legend, and it just so happens that although some legends exaggerate, his did not. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would get to work alongside him, much less for him.

When they first met, his name was enough to shock her into silence, but somehow she managed to impress him, for, at the end of the case she had assisted on, he requested her be placed on the MCRT. Some of the best news of her life. That was a little over a year ago, and in that span of time, she managed to find what she had always been looking for. A family. Hell if she was ever going to tell Angel that though; she'd never hear the end of it for being so weirdly sentimental.

Another ding from the computer brought her out of her thoughts and Bobby sauntered back to his previous position. "Looks like we've got the time table from your victim Agent David."

She interrupted him, "I told you to call me Ziva, Bobby."

"Right on, Zeeva," he said, looking thought the data on the computer. Ziva smiled softly as she waited for her results. "Palmer was right. Five days, or more specifically, five days and three hours, according to the jelly inside her eye."

Shauna wrinkled her nose; she had been assisting down in autopsy when Doctor Palmer extracted the sample. She hadn't felt the urge to throw up down there in some time, but that particular sight nearly set her off. Matt had a smile on his face when he saw her reaction to the words and she attempted to glare at him, but he only smiled wider. She hadn't ever been very good at the trademark McGee glare; the look that intimidated suspects into confessing, the only thing really capable of shutting Angel up, and, oddly enough, the look that when given to Ziva, only made her laugh, almost like he wasn't doing it quite right either. Shauna knew that Ziva and McGee had been on the same team a long time ago, and figured that the look meant something more, but she had never had the courage to ask.

"Shauna!" McGee's voice broke through, startling her.

She looked at her boss with wide eyes. "Yes."

He started walking out of the room. "Come on."

* * *

><p>Again, she was back in the infernal temporary housing office for the dead. Shauna followed her boss, Ziva, and Matt and went to stand next to the silver table Petty Officer Stevenson was currently resting on. "What do you got, Jimmy?" McGee asked. Only a select few people were allowed to call the doctor that.<p>

Doctor Palmer looked up from the report he was in the process of writing. His face was grim. "They were held for about three days. Dehydration, malnutrition." He pointed to bruises around the victim's arms and neck. "They both have the same type of bruising."

"They were beaten," Ziva said.

The doctor nodded. "And they tried to defend themselves. No cuff marks around their wrists, so they weren't tied up. It also looks like they suffered from hypothermia. Now, it's not that cold during the day, but at night…. They were in a place with no heat, if not outside."

McGee nodded, jaw tight. "Anything else?"

Doctor Palmer shook his head and went back to his report.

* * *

><p>All they were getting was bad news. McGee sat behind his desk and laid his head in his hands, ignoring the looks his agents were giving him. Like they were all waiting for him to explode. He knew it had only been half a day, but he had hoped that they would have gotten a little bit further by now, instead they were getting stonewalled by the LEOs and the searches were not getting anywhere. The rapid typing and breathed curses from behind McGee told him that Johnathan was not getting anywhere. That only left—<p>

The elevator dinged and McGee looked up, praying for good news. As usual, with Sarah, he wasn't disappointed. She stepped out of the elevator bank with an appropriately egotistical smile on her face and announced to the room at large, "Never fear, people. I've got our place."

Maxine came up behind her and punched her in the arm. "You mean 'we've got the place.'"

**AN: Alright, one question. Who is your favorite new character? And why? **


	3. Cheerleader

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

Chapter Three: Cheerleader

_Cheerleader—St. Vincent_

_We do not get over grief.  
>But over time, we do learn to live with the loss.<br>We learn to live a different life...with our loss._

Angel looked up at Sarah's proclamation. "What? How?"

Sarah sauntered to her desk, and perched lightly on the edge looking over to Ziva who was sitting on the shelf behind Johnathan. "We were interviewing the victim's friends and we found a common element."

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "And that would be?"

Sarah opened her mouth, but it was Maxine, who stood near the divider between the two teams, that answered. "The Crowbar. It's in the northern part of Silver Spring." Sarah's face fell.

"Well that's good." Angel stood up. "Can I go, Boss?"

McGee nodded, "Take Shauna with you."

Shauna immediately stood up and matched Angel's movements, grabbing her backpack from the ground behind her.

Sarah was indignant. She stood up and looked to Ziva as Angel and Shauna rushed by. "Hey. We found the lead, why can't we go?"

Ziva merely shook her head calmly. "No, I need you to keep talking to friends and family. And their C.O.s as well." The last part was heard as the elevator doors closed behind Angel who had a satisfied look on her face. The wink directed at Shauna was met only with a disappointed shake of the head.

The club was pretty impressive. It was big, with a shiny black dance floor in the middle, a long bar along the back wall, and groups of tables on either side, as well as two big flat screen TVs that hung along the outside wall. It was only two in the afternoon, so very few people were present, and, for the most part, weren't doing anything other than drowning their sorrows. There were, however, two full tables near one of the TVs watching a football game.

Angel reached out and grabbed Shauna's wrist, which was reaching for her badge, to stop her from going any further. "So, how would you suggest we do this?" She gave her a moment to answer.

Shauna looked confused. "What do you mean? We're just gonna ask the bartender some questions, right."

Angel rolled her eyes, while fixing Shauna's jacket to cover her weapon. "I thought I taught you better than that, Probie." She pushed her forward. "Look, we're not cops. We're IT or something and we're on our lunch break. Just act normal."

Shauna considered it, taking small steps, and then said, "Okay, but can we really have lunch?"

Angel thought back to the candy bar she'd stolen from the vending machine on her half hour break earlier. It wasn't as though McGee wouldn't have let leave to get an actual meal, but if he wasn't going to, then neither was she. "Just something quick. And remember, act normal." Shauna set her face to 'not cop' mode as they arrived at the stained wooden bar. "Whisky, neat. And some nachos."

The man nodded and then looked at Shauna. You'd have thought she'd never ordered bar nachos before. Angel said, "We can share the nachos. You want a drink?

She looked uncertain, but nodded.

Angel rolled her eyes at the bartender. "She'll have a whisky. Took me half an hour to get her here, she's gonna have a damn drink. She needs it."

The man smiled and made their drinks, then went in the kitchen to get the food. "Won't McGee be mad?" Shauna asked as they moved to the end of the bar.

Angel shook her head. "We're not going to drink it." She looked down at the amber liquid, a longing feeling in her gut. "Well…maybe just a little," and she took a sip and sighed. "Damn that's good. A little watered down, but good." She looked back at her partner, who was looking at her with wide eyes. "Hey, chill. Quit acting like we're not supposed to be here. Please tell me you've been to a bar in the middle of the day before?"

Shauna just shrugged.

"Just act normal, you loon," she whispered, as the barman came back with the food. "So," she said to him, "how's the nightlife here. Couple friends of mine said it was pretty wild."

He shook his head, thoughtfully. "It's not too bad. We don't have much of a dance scene here. Not exactly what the owner planned for," he smirked and pointed toward the dance floor, "but it's still pretty busy."

Angel watched as Shauna devoured a chip and then go for another. She was dipping it in the cheese. "Has more of a sports bar feeling to me."

He shrugged. "Game nights, it is. You gals looking to come back?"

"Anything to forget about the damn job for a while. Our boss is a complete hardass."

Shauna almost choked on her chip. The bartender smiled. "That bad, huh?"

Angel nodded, scooping up some chili and shoving it in her mouth. "Uh huh," she said, mouth full.

The bartender nodded sympathetically. "I feel for ya. My boss," he said, quietly, jerking his thumb back towards the heavy door marked 'Private.' "Bi-itch."

Twenty minutes later, they were walking to their car. "Isn't him," Angel said, unlocking the car door and starting a search for mints.

Shauna ducked down and looked at her over the seats like she'd lost her mind. "Are you kidding me?" She got in the car. "He told us his exact plan for murdering his boss, and you tell me he's not completely off his rocker?"

Angel abandoned the search, planning to stop for coffee on the way back to the office. Not that it would work anyway. Somehow, McGee always knew…. One glass, maybe he wouldn't notice, but, it had been a rough morning. "Crazy people don't tell normal people that they're crazy."

Shauna scoffed. "Fine, whatever, it wasn't him. But what about the other people in there?"

"Maybe, but doubtful. Believe it or not, you can't always tell a serial killer from a normal citizen. Some of the best ones are pillars of their community. Deacons, teachers, even cops. Those poor saps in there have bigger problems than some crazy, homicidal urges." She backtracked. "Well… maybe not worse."

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Angel was on the phone with McGee, having allowed Shauna, who only took a sip, to drive. "We've got an in, Boss."

"_Yeah?" _Short and sweet.

"Undercover at the bar. Worth a try. I mean, it's the one thing the vics have in common, plus a nightclub is the perfect place to hunt for women. Especially if you consider the roofies in their systems."

Silence as McGee thought. _"Sounds good. Both of you go home and get ready to go out. But come back to the office to get the equipment set up. I want to do this right."_

"On it," Angel said. She turned to her partner. "Please, tell me you've got some party clothes."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

They had gone at Angel's apartment after tearing through the failure that was Shauna's closet. The girl needed to do a serious upgrade.

No matter which outfit Angel put Shauna in, she would not stop fidgeting. The skirt she was in at the moment was being pulled as far as it could possibly go down her thighs, accompanied by a frustrated look on her face.

"Stop it!" Angel snapped from the open door of her closet where she was going though all her clothes, looking for something Shauna would be more comfortable in. "Do you own anything that isn't denim or flannel? Surely you've gone to clubs before?"

"Yes, I have," she said, exasperatedly. "But I've always worn denim and flannel."

Angel closed her eyes and sighed. Outside of work, the only thing she had ever seen her partner in was torn up jeans and a variety of ugly plaid shirts, along with the occasional nasty old band t-shirt. "What am I going to do with you?" she rifled though some more of her own clothes and came back out of the closet, holding up a longer black sequined skirt. "Maybe this is more your—" she stopped when she was met with Shauna, skirt on the floor, and attempting to pull her top over her head. "Whoa, girl. Don't just go getting naked with me!"

Shauna laughed. "What? See something you like?"

Well… Angel slowly peeked over the hanger, raising her eyebrows, but quickly pulled it back up. No. Inappropriate. She threw the garment roughly at her nearly nude partner. "Just put that on and get out of my room."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Matt sighed from his seat next to Bobby down in his lab. Who knew that women could be so damn picky with what they put on? For the better part of the last hour, the men had been subjected to a show of 'Do you think this is hot?' by Sarah and Maxine after they found out that they would be going undercover at the club as well.

He looked at Bobby. "Explain to me why I'm down here again. Don't they already have a male partner to torture?"

Bobby smiled good-naturedly. "Yes, but one of them doesn't have a crush on _him_." He waggled his eyebrows and laughed at the appalled look that must have crossed Matt's face.

"What the hell are you talking about? Which one?"

He only smiled again and placed a finger over his lips as the girls came out again.

After the third round, Sarah's face was so red that it almost matched her hair and Maxine was about two seconds from throwing down with either him or her partner—he didn't think that it would matter which. Bobby was trying to be helpful, but had mostly done nothing more than piss the redheaded fashionista off even more. She stormed back into the scientist's office, steam practically blowing out of her ears.

They stayed in there longer than usual and Matt could hear the bickering getting louder. Finally, he stood up, marched to the door, and flung it open, eliciting a gasp from Sarah, who held a shirt up in front of her almost bare torso. Maxine merely raised her hands in exasperation, ignoring the fact that she wore only a black tank top and no pants. Matt walked right up to them, grabbed the first shirt he had seen Sarah in and shoved it into her chest.

Maxine looked at him like she would likely kill him if he did that to her. Sarah liked to joke with Maxine about her Native American Shaman ancestry, but even after three years undercover for the CIA, Matt knew better than to risk it—one rain dance from her and he'd soon be bleeding from his eyeballs. Instead, he pointed to a pair of black pants with studs down the side and then walked back out of the office and toward the elevator.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

They had to arrive at the club fairly early to avoid the line, so there was a lot of downtime before the work actually started. "So what's been going on with you lately? Got a boyfriend?"

Shauna was still picking at her frilly shirt, but she blushed. "No."

Angel smiled. "And why not?"

She could tell Shauna was trying not to be embarrassed, but she couldn't make eye contact. "Why does everybody always ask me that? There's nothing wrong with being single."

Angel conceded, nodding her head amiably. "No, nothing wrong with it. But it's still nice to have someone. I do want you to be happy, you know." A blush and a smile.

"I know. I just kind of prefer not to bother with it. Haven't had much luck with boyfriends in the past."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? How's that?"

Shauna looked suddenly uncomfortable. "It—I don't want to talk about it."

"What do you— Did somebody hurt you? Because if they did, I will beat their ass." Anger boiling, she went to stand up, job be damned, but Shauna caught her arm. Her eyes were cast down and she began picking at her nails.

"It was a long time ago. My first real boyfriend."

Angel sat. "You know you can tell me anything, babe." No response. "Hey," she put her hand on Shauna's. "I won't tell anyone. I'd never hurt you like that."

Shauna sighed and finally looked her in the eye. "I was seventeen. I got married."

Angel's eyes went wide. "What in the hell would possess you to get married at seventeen?"

Shauna looked around at the other patrons slowly filling the bar. "I was…I was pregnant."

"What? But you—" Oh, God.

She knew Angel was smart enough to figure out what came next, but she continued anyway. Something about the 'healing power of words' flashed through her mind. "He was an ass. An abusive ass." She cleared her throat. "One night—I think it was one his friends' birthday parties—he came home at like four o' clock in the morning, drunk as usual. I was mad at him for waking me up. I mean, I was seven months and it was hard enough to get to sleep as it was."

Angel could see moisture forming in the corner of the younger agent's eye, matching the one in her own. She stopped talking for a moment and swallowed, attempting to hold the pain back. Angel stayed quiet and waited for her to continue.

A deep breath. "I yelled at him and was trying to leave the room, because I had to pee, but he grabbed my arm." Another swallow. "I tried to fight back, but he hit me. And then he did it again and I fell down. He was in a rage or something. I told him to leave me alone and tried to get up, but he put his foot on my back and pushed me down." She sighed and closed her eyes. "That's when it happened. The idiot finally called an ambulance, but it was already too late."

For one of the few times in her life, Angel was at a loss for words. Anger filled her body at the man who hurt her partner. She managed to get out an, "I'm sorry," but it was a tremendous effort on her part to hold in the hate. Shauna wasn't the one who needed to see it.

"It was a long time ago." She sighed calmly and shook her head viscously, as if to rid herself of the memories. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't put that on you." She looked up at Angel. "I'll bet you would have still gotten up and kicked his ass, pregnant or not."

Angel gave a half-hearted chuckle, loosening up, and attempting to put some ease back to the situation. "I actually did that once. Bitch girlfriend. Fucking tricked me into thinking she was cool and then tried to hit me when I burnt the eggs. I mean, I always burn the eggs." Angel smiled at the memory. "I hit her on the face with frying pan. Straight off the fire, too."

Shauna laughed openly. "Charges were dropped on me when the DA saw her face. Laughed her right out of her office." Angel sighed. "She was a good person. For a lawyer anyway. And really good in the sack too."

Shauna almost inhaled the drink she had raised to her lips.

**AN: Sorry it's been a while, but school is a bitch sometimes. I've got more on the way. R&R please.**


	4. Aciiid!

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

Chapter Four: Aciid!

Aciid!—Jem (Just put it on repeat and pretend that this song is playing in the background at the club)

_Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. –The Buddha_

The night started off pretty smoothly. Eventually, Sarah and Maxine showed up to put in a little more variety. Considering the victims from this morning looked so aesthetically different, they were unsure as to the killer's exact type. As the night went on, Shauna seemed to find a rhythm of trying to appear like she was having fun while still looking out for possible suspects. Though, she still had a hard time trying not to laugh when Angel started twitching every time a man tried to lay a line on her. But Angel was a professional; she chatted with them long enough to get some necessary information out of them. As per McGee's instructions, tonight was just to try and build a workable list of names and phone numbers.

"Hey!" Angel said, slapping at Shauna's hand. "You're tearing up my clothes."

She looked down. The thread connecting to one of the annoying sequins was frayed almost to the point of breakage. "Oh, shit. Sorry." Her hands went up to her mouth and she started chewing on her unpainted nails. Angel batted her hands back down. "Nervous habit."

"Well, stop being nervous," Angel growled. "I swear to God. If one more idiot tries to feed me some cheesy line about my 'beautiful blonde curls,' I am going to snap him like a twig."

"Just relax."

"You relax!" She sat back in her chair. "At least every guy who hits on you is the right gender." She had just come back to the table after talking to what Shauna had considered to be a rather handsome man. If he had said to her what he'd said to Angel, she might just have been swept off her feet.

"Playing wingman, huh?" came a quiet, low pitched voice from behind them. He wasn't particularly attractive, but he had a certain confidence about him that intrigued Shauna. Angel narrowed her eyes at the new arrival.

"You had better watch it unless you want to get punched in the junk," Angel said, finally losing her cool.

A smile lit his features, and he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "No worries. I was actually hoping to talk to your friend here." He turned to Shauna. "The names Dave."

"'The names Dave'" Angel mocked walking away. Shauna could hear McGee chastise her over the earwigs.

"Cari," Shauna said, and held out her hand to grip his.

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. First real handshake I've gotten from a woman all night."

"Most men are deterred by that sort of nonsense."

He smiled again. It was rather contagious. "I disagree. You know, there's a lot that you can tell about a person by the way they shake your hand."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

He's a charmer. Angel had to give him that as she watched Shauna sweet talk Dave out of his number, or rather, she was sweet-talked into asking for it. "Blea," she stuck her tongue out in disgust.

Suddenly, a very short dress came into her line of vision and Angel was intrigued. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all. But then she looked up the see the overly bright face of none other than Sarah Winchester, red hair in a high ponytail and her bubble of happiness popped.

The accent nearly sent her off twitching again. "Find anythin' yet?"

Angel smiled, annoyed. "They're all creeps to me."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Maxine wasn't fairing nearly as well as her partner, voluptuous redhead as she was. Apparently, men didn't really go for all black outfits, regardless of how little it left to the imagination. Then again, the dog collar wasn't her type of thing, but Bobby had found one of Abby Sciuto's old ones in his lab the other day and insisted that she wear it tonight. For some 'variety,' as he had called it.

She took another sip of the virgin roman coke, a.k.a. regular coke; the bartender had just laughed when she ordered it. If her boss wasn't watching every move she was making, she might have had him dump a little something extra in it. It was going to be a long night. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

"Maxine!" She jumped up at the voice which sounded suddenly in her ear. She had to clench her jaw to keep from crying out. Damn earpieces.

"Agent McGee," she said quietly, barely moving her lips. "Where's Ziva?"

"Bathroom." His voice was gruff. "You haven't gotten many numbers."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you noticed that, did you?"

He chuckled softly. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Suppose I can't say no."

"Well, you can start with getting the hell out of that booth," McGee said. "Go up to the bar. Act confident…. Be confident."

Maxine sighed and stood up, adjusting her shirt to make sure the button cam was clear. "You try getting picked up when all you want to do is go home and sleep."

As usual, Agent McGee was right. The second she sat down in front of the bar, a large, sweaty man came up to her, which was followed by quiet laughter in her ear.

She sighed. At least it was something.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

McGee and Ziva were still in the office, listening into their agents work when they got bored, but mostly, they sat together in a conference room and looked over all the papers spread out over the table. Ziva's nephew Natanael was downstairs asleep on the couch in Bobby's vacated lab, having worn himself out from playing video games with the scientist all evening. For someone who claimed to love all of nature, Bobby sure loved slaughtering in the digital world. But eventually, he had declared Natanael the king and left to get some sleep.

Matt and Johnathan had gone home already, as they were expected bright and early to start going over all the video from the button and necklace cams the girls were wearing. But, of course, someone had to stay to run the command center and supervise to make sure nothing went wrong, and neither McGee, nor Ziva had conceded to go home first.

Ziva's head went suddenly to the table, making a muffled thump as her hair flopped over the papers. "How much longer?" she asked the table.

McGee checked his watch. "'Bout half an hour until midnight. That's when they should be packing up."

She made a pained noise.

"Doesn't Natanael have school tomorrow?" McGee asked, attempting to guilt her into going home.

"No. It's a faculty meeting day." It almost sounded like she was crying. "But I have to go to represent the PTA."

McGee laughed and patted her on the shoulder. Who'd have thought Ziva would ever turn into a soccer mom? Not that he didn't like the change in cast; it was nice having a kid that he got to help mentor. Palmer's girls were still too young for that. "Ziva, go home. The nights almost over."

She sighed in what appeared to be defiance, but then stood up suddenly and shuffled her pile of papers into a single stack. "Fine. But, anything happens, I am the first to know. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." That comment earned him the first headslap he's had in years. He rubbed the back of his head and smiled as he watched her leave, but as soon as the door shut it faded. Pain memory response. When she hit him, a vision of silver hair and blue eyes flashed across his mind. After Gibbs passed, even Tony had stopped doing it; to him, at least.

'Just doesn't feel right, doing it to you. That was his thing,' he had said, facing the plasma. He ignored the angry Angel, who had just been given a headslap, in the background. He half-shrugged and looked discretely over his shoulder. "She deserved it."

McGee smiled.

He leaned back in his chair. Has it really been six years? he thought, not for the first time that week. McGee still couldn't believe how much had changed. When Ziva left, Tony was depressed for a long time, but eventually, he realized that it just wasn't meant to be. And even after she came back, they remained just friends. Apparently, Abby had begun to fill that void. Leave it to Tony to have a secret relationship.

But life moved on. Tony left McGee as team leader, with Angel and Matt. It stayed a three man team for almost two years before McGee finally found Shauna to fill the empty desk-his old desk. She was nervous as hell when they'd first met, but she managed to push past that, stand up to Angel's taunts, and almost single-handedly catch a killer, all at the same time. Gibbs would have been proud.

He checked his watch after a while; two 'til midnight. He pushed the button for the comms, and said, "Alright, ladies. Wrap it up and head home."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Sarah stepped away from the man she had been chatting up and started toward her partner. Max was sitting in the booth again, head down on the table. "You ready, girl?"

Max's head shot up. "Like you have no idea." She stood and took off for the exit.

"Hey, wait up," Sarah called after her, nearly stumbling in her heels. She caught up to her near the door. "Hey, relax." She put her arm around Max's shoulders and held her still while she took off her stilettos. "Nights over, we're done. No need to run." They stepped outside and headed for the car on the other side of the street.

"So did you have good-" Max stopped. "Did you hear that?"

Sarah looked around. "Hear what?" She stopped walking, turning her head to the side. Max pointed towards that parking lot, which had already been full by the time they'd arrived.

Then she heard it; muffled crying. Sarah dropped her shoes on the ground and went for the gun in her thigh holster as they crept their way through the cars toward the sound.

A flash of dirty blonde hair and a dark blue dress appeared as it was shoved into the back of a dark SUV fifty feet away. "Ziva? Agent McGee?" She said into the comms. The door slammed and the car started. "Ziva!" Sarah said, louder, breaking into a run. Something sharp cut into her left foot, but she didn't stop.

Agent McGee's voice sounded in her ear, "Sarah, what's wrong?"

The car pulled out into the street ahead of them and sped off into the night. "I can't see it. Max!" she called to the left side of the lot. "Anything?"

"What happened?" McGee demanded.

"Last two digits are 39." Max ran over. "Couldn't get anything else."

"It looked like a Tahoe."

"No, it was too small for that."

"Hey!" McGee shouted, causing interference in their ears. "What happened? I can't see anything."

Sarah slapped the wall behind her in frustration. "Some girl just got abducted."

"Did you see the guy?"

"No. But she had blonde hair. It was an SUV, last two digits 39."

"Make, model? Color?"

Sarah looked to Max, who shrugged. "Black? Blue? It's too dark."

"Damn it."

"Guys, what's wrong?" Angel's voice came from behind them.

"What happened?" She took in Sarah's bare, bleeding feet. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine," Sarah said through clenched teeth. "That girl that just got kidnapped might not be though. Fuck!" she slammed her fist down on the nearest car hood.

Max put her hand on her arm. "Calm down. We'll find her, don't worry."

McGee spoke up, breathing deeper, as if he were moving. "Guys, hang tight, I'll be right there. Call the cops, and have them set up down there with a forensics team. We need to work this fast."

**AN: I understand that because I created these characters, I understand them a bit more than everyone else would. I also understand that I might not explain them very well because of that. So, if you have any questions, please ask. I'd be glad to help. Thanks for reading.**


	5. Never Wanted to Dance

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

**Chapter Five: Never Wanted to Dance**

Never Wanted to Dance-Mindless Self Indulgence (R-rated song, Or you can go with Come On Closer—Jem)

_Letting go of the pain, moving on with life  
>Is the moral of the story<br>And if you read until the end,  
>You'll see the lesson that says<br>"No guts/No glory."_

Sarah sat down in a huff in Bobby's desk chair. "I can't believe we let that creep get away."

"I can't believe we still don't know who he is. The thought that one of us could have talked to him…" Max shuddered. She was sting cross-legged on a table in front of the desk and dropped her head into her hands. "I can't wait 'til this case is over."

Sarah leaned back and looked at the bare white ceiling. "What do you think he's doing to her?"

"You know, Sarah, I really don't want to think about it."

Bobby was in the front lab, going through evidence from the parking lot. Sarah and Max had tried to help, but eventually, he wound up locking them in his office. The way he put it, "You're helping too much, dude."

Sarah still couldn't shake the feeling that they could have done something more, even though she knew it was an impossible feat. She'd been enjoying herself too much at the club. Maybe if she'd paid a little more attention, she might have noticed something—anything that would have given the killer away.

She had been fidgeting all day with very little to do. Matt and Shauna were out doing the follow up interviews, Ziva and Agent McGee were with the director to give an update on the case, and Angel, Max, and Sarah had stayed at the office to go over the video from the bar with Johnathan, but had finished up pretty quickly. So, at the moment, she and Max had nothing to do but wait to go back to the club.

Maxine suddenly flopped back onto the table to stare up at the ceiling. "So, what?" she said. "Are we just supposed to go back tonight and pretend like nothing's wrong?"

"Yep," Sarah said sullenly.

A loud sigh, then she stood again went to the locked glass sliding door and knocked. "Bobby, let me out."

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, but didn't get up.

"I can't just sit here. I'm going to go back over the video and memorize the faces. Bobby!"

The scientist came to the door, remote in hand, but with a skeptical look on his face. "You're not gonna mess up my work again, are you?"

"You are so particular! I didn't do anything!" she shouted through the glass.

"You almost ruined my sample!" he argued back.

Maxine gave him an angry look and raised her arm to place her hand on the butt of her gun. Bobby narrowed his eyes, but opened the door anyway and watched as she stormed past him and out the door.

He glanced at Sarah with a confused look on his face, but when she did not respond in kind, his eyebrows scrunched together. "What's wrong, cowgirl?"

"I should have stopped him."

"Who? The killer?"

"He was right there, Bobby! We couldn't even get the make and model of the truck." She hit the top of the desk, but with a little less vigor than the night before. There was no passion in the movement.

Bobby paused uncertainly, then stepped forward and sat on the edge of his desk. "You know it's not your fault."

She breathed out and shook her head. "Doesn't matter whose fault it is. He's still got her. Who knows where she is right now or what he's doing to her." She looked up suddenly, remembering what Ziva had told the team yesterday. "Have you gotten anywhere with the soil you found on Agent McGee's victim?"

"No. sorry. I'm still trying to get samples from the park for comparison."

"I can go—"

He held up his hand to stop her. "I've already got the forensics techs on it."

"Oh." She deflated. "Well, I suppose I could just sit here, then."

"Or you could get some sleep," he said pointing at the couch along the wall. She shook her head.

Bobby smiled sympathetically and placed his hand on her shoulders. "We'll catch him. I have faith in you dudes."

Sarah grinned a little at his casual term. "I sure hope you're right."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

McGee stepped out of the elevator, third cup of coffee of the day clutched in his hand. "Anything new?" he asked of Matt and Shauna, who were sitting at their desks.

Shauna looked exhausted. "Nothing," she said staring blankly at her computer screen. "Just a bunch of tears."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" McGee said, stopping in front of her desk.

She yawned widely. "Tried. Couldn't. I'm okay."

"My ass you're okay." He sat his coffee down in front of her keyboard. "You'd better get some rest this afternoon. I need you sharp."

Shauna leaned forward, eyes closed and sniffed at the cup. Matt snickered.

McGee slapped her desk, fighting a smile when she jumped up, eyes wide, her chair creaking from the movement. She looked over at Matt, who still laughed silently. "Not funny."

"Boss!" Angel's voice came from the stairway. She strode toward the bullpen, a proud smile on her face. "Metro just got back to me." She stopped behind her desk and typed for a few seconds. She then stood, grabbed the plasma remote and clicked. Three D.C. license photocopies appeared.

"Three women, different heights, ages, skin color, and almost nothing in common at all in looks, jobs, beliefs. Totally random, right?"

"Nothing about this is random." McGee said.

"And they all disappeared from D.C.?" Ziva asked, having come over from her own desk.

"Yes. All from nightclubs within the past year, about three months apart. The last one," she clicked the remote, "Alice Williams, waitress. She disappeared from the Crowbar almost ten months ago. They were all found about a week later with cross marks on their stomachs."She clicked a few more times, showing crime scene photos. All three were curled up, eyes closed, dress clothes dirty but still intact.

While she continued going over the photos, McGee looked up to see Johnathan coming down the stairs from MTAC, an apprehensive look adorning his features. He walked into the bullpen and surreptitiously and cleared his throat, interrupting Angel. "Ma'am," he nodded to Ziva, but caught himself quickly. "Sorry, I mean Ziva."

She smiled tersely at him. "Yes, Johnathan? You look like you have something."

His face blushed red at having everybody's eyes on him, so he quickly went over to Matt's computer and sent his own data to the plasma screen. "I was talking to the FBI in MTAC and I found something that I think you need to see."

McGee leaned over and whispered in Ziva's ear. "Did _you_ tell him to talk to the FBI?"

She shook her head, a surprised look crossing her face.

"There's a pattern here," Johnathan explained, taking the remote from Angel and bringing up maps of Georgia, Mississippi, and Maine, red dots sprinkled randomly over them. "In the past decade, a string of murders have all been committed in these states. The pattern wasn't quite so obvious during the first couple of years—he hasn't always done the cross thing—but according to the agents I spoke to, it still matches, even though he was still forming his MO."

Matt spoke up. "Was the FBI working on this already?"

Johnathan shook his head. "This isn't a case of theirs, but I had them look into the UCR, or the Uniform Crime Report that they take every year of all crimes reported to police, and this is what they found." He clicked, revealing about thirty photo ids from the three states. "Now, the murders happened maybe three times a year or more for about three years in each state before he moved on again. The last reported was in Georgia, a little over a year ago. I think we've got our guy." He turned around to find them all staring openly at him and the blush began to rise again.

It was Angel who broke the pregnant pause. "Well, I'm impressed. Good one, man." She slapped him on the back.

He turned to Ziva, looking for something… and was met with a simple nod, the corners of her mouth fighting with the rest of her face for control.

He smiled shyly at the gesture, clearly all the praise he needed from who McGee was beginning to suspect would be proud to call herself his boss for a very long time.

"Alright, everybody back to work," McGee announced, scattering the agents back to their respective desks, but he stepped into Johnathan's path and shook his hand. "You're good, kid."

Johnathan looked at him with wide eyes, but then he reigned in his expression. "Thanks, sir."

McGee narrowed his eyes. "I mean, Agent McGee."

McGee nodded and then went back to his desk.

"One question," Shauna said, after a few minutes of silence. "In ten years, the murders only occurred a few times a year. Why so many now?"

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

"Angel, why is she wearing such a short skirt? I can see her weapon when she walks."

Shauna probably should feel uncomfortable, with her boss studying her legs the way he was, but it was the third night that he had complained about the way Angel had dressed her, and by now she was just about used to playing human Barbie doll.

"Only because you're looking!" Angel argued.

"Exactly! Everyone's going to be looking. That's the whole point." Angel and McGee used to partners, and that was really the only reason that he would take such an argument from her.

Angel huffed and came at Shauna. "Can't we just move it up a little more?" She went to get a hold of the holster, but Shauna jumped away.

"Hey, I don't know where you're weapon is, but mine will _not_ go up any further."

"Fine!" Angel threw her hands up in the air and marched out of the bullpen, heading to Bobby's lab where he had let her store her clothes for the case length. "I'll find a different freaking skirt."

"Thanks, Boss," Shauna said, when Angel disappeared into the elevator, and tried to sit, but failed. He grunted what she imagined was a 'you're welcome,' and went to his desk.

It was Saturday night; five days after the case began. It felt longer. Shauna had never gone out maybe more than a couple nights in a row, she liked a quiet night in as much as the next person, and the past week had been torture. However, it wasn't all in vain. They had compiled quite the list of suspects and formed reputations, and some relationships, with the regulars. Unfortunately, there was still a long way to go and very little time. They still hadn't found the girl that Sarah and Maxine had witness being kidnapped and there was nothing they could do but wait.

The elevator dinged and Angel stepped out holding up a pair of tight-looking pants and—thank God—some actual tennis shoes. Shauna didn't even really care that they sparkled. This Arizona girl did not do heals well.

Shauna changed in the bathroom and came out to show McGee, gun and holster in her hand.

"Where does the gun go?"

Angel growled and jumped up from her desk, grabbed Shauna's gun from her hand, and stuffed it roughly down the front of her shirt. "There! Happy?"

McGee nodded, ignoring the affronted look Shauna was giving the both of them. "Good. Let's get a move on."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

This was Angel's scene. But only on weekends and nights that weren't followed by ungodly early mornings filled with paperwork. She was just flat-out tired. She sat at the bar, fake sipping at the bourbon, and sucking down the root beer. One of the main reasons she liked bars was the alcohol. God, she missed the alcohol.

So far, tonight had been just like the previous few nights. They had to keep finding new people; there were only so many times you could chat somebody up before they started to question why you wouldn't go home with them. McGee had had them call a few people, but that hadn't lead anywhere. The problem was, as Angel hadn't mentioned—but she knew everyone else was feeling—if they kept doing what they were doing for much longer, someone, i.e. the killer, might begin to suspect that they had an ulterior motive.

Shauna was the only exception. Save for a couple of nights when he wasn't there, she had been talking to Dave (the guy from the first night who had managed to form a twenty minute conversation about handshakes.) It had become quite the debate in the office as to whether he was the killer or not.

Angel didn't believe his charm for a minute and refused to stray very far from her partner when she was with him. He wasn't anywhere to be seen tonight, thankfully. Shauna, however, insisted that it wasn't him, regardless of how many times Angel yelled. They weren't the only ones involved, though.

McGee refused to take sides. He chose to give them both the benefit of the doubt, and was, as usual, no help at all. Ziva, on the other hand, went automatically to Shauna's team, which Angel found strange…at first. McGee, although supposedly indifferent, had had some words with her over her involvement.

_Angel listened outside the elevator. It was uncanny how little the metal doors blocked the sound. Everyone else sat quietly at their desks, pretending not to listen, but Angel, who had no such qualms when it came to eavesdropping, knew that when she didn't hear typing or any other noise that it was only for show._

"_Ziva, what the hell are you doing?" McGee said harshly to his old partner. _

_She harrumphed at him. "I know what you are thinking, McGee."_

"_Oh? You do?"_

"_Yes. I seem to remember that no one believed me when I told you _he_ was not guilty. Perhaps she just needs someone to back her up."_

"_Ziva, this isn't fifteen years ago. You don't know if it's him or not, just like you didn't know then. "_

"_I _did_ know then, and if she insists that it's not him, then I believe her." _

_McGee sighed loudly, an attempt to regain his control. "Ziva, you have nothing to prove by doing this," he said with a strained voice. _

"_You think I am trying to make some kind of point?" she hissed._

"_Look, I'm not saying that it _is_ him, but that doesn't mean that I don't still want her to be on her toes. The second you let your guard down—"_

"_I _know_, Tim. But that does not mean that you are allowed to make her jaded. You cannot cut her off from the world, that's what life is. Fear should have nothing do with it."_

_McGee finally lost it and shouted, "Unless it's fear of being brutally murdered by a psychopath!"_

_The last sentence resounded throughout the main floor. Angel gasped and turned to find Shauna trying to hide the single tear running down her cheek._

Angel knew that McGee was just trying to protect her, but Ziva also had a point. Angel just wished that Ziva had chosen another time to bring it up. McGee had quite the tendency to, so to speak, coddle Shauna. He tried his hardest to keep her away from the more dangerous assignments; in fact, Angel was surprised he'd even let her stay undercover at the bar.

It was kind of like he was compensation for something. He'd mentioned something to her years ago, before he became team leader, about wishing that he'd taken more time to have a family. Ever since Shauna had been added to their team, he treated her with special care. At first, it could be assumed that it was because she was a probie and new to the whole investigative process, but after a nearly a year, it hadn't changed.

Only twenty-five, she was younger than the other two on the team. He treated her like his surrogate daughter. He denied it, but Angel knew him well enough to tell how he felt.

"Another?" Angel turned to the bartender, then down to the shot glass. Looked like she had drunk the shot without meaning to. She nodded at the man and he topped her off. She took another fake sip.

A very familiar ringtone sounded close to Angel. She looked and saw Sarah hold up one polished finger to the medium height, curly-haired man she had been talking to. "Hello?" she said, pleasantly, but from the look on her face, Angel could guess who was on the other line. "What?" her eyes widened. "Yeah…yeah, I'll be right there. Sorry, work emergency." she said to the man.

"It's ten at night," he said to her retreating back. "I thought you were a fashion designer?"

Angel looked over to Maxine, who was reading a text. McGee's voice came over the comms. "We've got another body guys. Angel and Shauna, hang tight. We think it might be the girl from the other night, and we need Maxine and Sarah to confirm. Call me if you need anything. Johnathan's running operations."

Angel and Shauna looked at each other from across the dance floor. Shauna nodded subtly and went back to talking to the tall blonde she was standing next to.

"Got it, Boss," Angel said behind her hand and then dropped her head onto the table. Even a crime scene was sounding fun compared to this.

"_Agent DeLuca? Angel? Angel!"_

Angel's head shot up from the table, eyes blinking owlishly. She cleared her throat of sleep. "What is it, Probie?" she snapped, wiping some spit from the side of her mouth.

"_Oh. I—umm."_ He cleared his throat. _"Your camera was dark. I didn't—I guess you were—"_

"Sleeping?" she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I caught that."

"_Right. Sorry, I—"_

"Don't worry about it." She sighed. "It's my fault." She looked around. Nothing big had changed, so she couldn't have been out that long. "It's been a tough week, Johnathan."

He let out an easy breath. _"Yeah, I guess it has."_

Angel took a long draught from the root beer, ignoring how flat it had gone. "Have you heard anything on the body yet?"

"_No, I haven't. Agent David said she'd call before they came back, but that could take hours."_

"I'd really start calling her Ziva if I were you. Let's her know that you're comfortable around her."

"_Yeah, that's what Sarah said."_

"Well, I suggest you listen." She took another drink. "God, I've got to get back to work. What's Shauna up to?"

"_Umm,"_ a few clicks were heard. _"She's talking to…. Is that Dave?'_

"Dave? Handshake Dave?" she stood up, peering over the people. "He wasn't here earlier. What are they doing?"

"_Hang on…what? She's heading towards the exit. You guys aren't supposed to leave."_

Finally, Angel spotted the bright pink shirt she'd stuffed her partner into earlier that afternoon. She was being supported by Dave as she swayed.

"Dammit! Johnathan, call the cops."

"_Already doing it."_

Angel lifted up her skirt and took her weapon out of the holster, keeping it pressed up against her stomach as she pushed through the patrons. She pulled out her phone as she barged through the door, hitting the speed dial for McGee.

She ran through the parking lot attempting to keep Shauna within her sights, but she was nowhere to be found.

"_Agent McGee." _He answered roughly.

"Boss, Shauna's been drugged," she whispered. "I'm out in the parking lot, but he's got her. I don't—"

A sharp pain on the back of her head and everything went black.

**AN: Almost done with chapter six. Will have it up soon. Thanks for reading.**


	6. Fear of Being Alone

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

Chapter Six: Fear of Being Alone  
><span>Fear of Being Alone—the Exies<span>

_The room was dark  
><em>_The room was drear  
><em>_And all I could feel  
><em>_Was a rush of fear  
>The shades were down<br>__And it was hard to see  
>But I could feel her heartbeat<br>__And it comforted me _

Yet another victim in a seemingly endless stream of nearly a decade of evil. It sickened McGee to think of someone getting away with murder for so long. How could no one notice?

McGee stood off to the side and watched as Palmer examined the body. Sarah and Maxine had preliminarily identified the woman as the one they witnessed being kidnapped; all they had to go on was the blonde hair and the dark blue dress, which the killer must have had to lift up to cut the mark into her stomach. At least her panties were still intact; Palmer had confirmed that no sexual trauma had occurred with the other victims.

Ziva was talking to her agents and Matt near the crime scene tape, giving orders as to the collection of evidence. It would likely be an overnight assignment. Everybody was already so tired, McGee had half a mind to just send them all home and do it himself, but he and Ziva had trained them too well to quit before all the work was done. It wasn't the best philosophy when it came to having a life, and it sure as hell hadn't worked out for McGee: forty-five years old and nothing to show for it. No family, no real friends outside of work. He hadn't been home to see his parents for years.

The sharp shrill of his phone broke through his thoughts. He took a step away from the body to answer. "Agent McGee."

Angel's voice was quiet, but urgent. _"Boss, Shauna's been drugged."_ McGee's heart dropped into his stomach.

"_I'm out in the parking lot, but he's got her. I don't—"_

"Angel? Angel!" A clatter of the phone hitting the ground. "Angel, I'm coming!" McGee yelled into the phone, but he didn't dare hang up.

"Boss, what's wrong?" Matt came up behind him, worry all over his face. McGee grabbed him by the arm and began pulling him toward the car.

"McGee?" Ziva called out, running after them and catching up easily.

"He's got them, Ziva!" he spit out. He could feel that familiar stinging behind his eyes, but now wasn't the time for crying. "That bastard's got my girls!"

Matt disentangled himself from McGee's grip and managed to make it to the car before the other two. He opened all the doors and got in the back. McGee went for the driver's seat, but Ziva pushed him aside and jumped in herself. "I am driving, McGee. Get in the car," she said, more calmly than she looked.

McGee didn't argue with her, they had no time and Ziva had come the closest to breaking the sound barrier when she was behind the wheel.

It may have been only ten minutes from when they left the park to the time they arrived at the club, even though they ran every stoplight, stop sign, train track, school zone, and one vacant lot, but it didn't help. They were gone.

Matt ran around the parking lot twice before he finally conceded to that point. Ziva's phone had rang in the car, but she was too busy to answer. It rang again, and she looked at the caller id. "It's Johnathan." She put him on speaker.

"_Ziva, thank God. It's Angel."_ His voice was frantic. _"I don't know what happened. She said Shauna was being taken out of the bar, and she was following. She told me to call the cops and I did, but then something happened and I can't get her back on the comms. I didn't—"_

"We are at the club, Johnathan," Ziva said, jaw clenched. "They are not here anymore."

"_They're—what? What do you mean they're not—"_

Matt growled. "It means they're not here anymore. We didn't get here in time and now they're gone." He slammed both fists down on the hood of a white corvette and cursed. When he removed his hands, he left a red stain behind.

McGee stepped towards the phone. "Johnathan, did she say what he looked like?"

"No…. But, I know who it is…"

"Well?"

"It was Dave. He took them." Ziva's eyes widened as they locked with McGee's.

"Boss!" Matt had wandered off, and he stood near the exit behind a couple of cars.

Ziva and McGee ran over. "What is it?"

He pointed to the ground. "Angel's phone and gun."

The local cops chose that particular moment to show up, lights going, but no sirens; too late to help anybody.

McGee turned back to Matt and pointed at the phone. "You call Bobby and get those to him. I want to know what happened, now."

* * *

><p>Matt sat against the back wall of the elevator that hadn't changed in the six years he'd been working for NCIS and held his head in his hands. Since moving around and reacting violently to nearly everything that had gotten in his way, he had found that the only logical way to keep from getting in trouble was to be as still as possible.<p>

It had been nearly three hours since he came back to headquarters, but, as of yet, there was nothing that he could do. McGee and Ziva had both stayed at the club to get the surveillance tapes and attempt to interview as many witnesses as possible, and still try not to give away their cover. Exactly how that was possible was still beyond Matt.

"Matt, please come out. You have to talk to me eventually." Maxine had been outside the elevator doors for the better part of half an hour. She was likely just two minutes from either climbing down the shaft and in though the ceiling or prying the doors open with her bare hands. One moment she was yelling at him, then the next, she was knocking softly and apologizing, and then the next, she was twisting her words, trying to coerce him into coming out. He still sat.

Not even ten minutes. Ten minutes too late, and his partners were gone. And what could he do? What could he do when that monster was doing God-knows-what to them in some far-off place where no one could hear them scream? Matt's breath hitched and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Alright! That's it, I give up," Maxine shouted and slapped her hand on the doors. "You just better be out of there before Agent McGee gets back."

A few minutes later, and her footsteps could be heard coming towards him, but she was prepared this time. It started out with the sound of metal scraping against metal and a few curses, causing him to look up. Then, suddenly, the end of a black crowbar came through the silver doors and began twisting, looking for some leverage. With one final grunt from Maxine, the doors opened with an obnoxious ding. The elevator didn't care that his partners were missing.

Maxine stood in the opening, wide stance, panting. She wiped the little bit of sweat that had collected on her brow and dropped the tool to the floor. Matt steeled himself, preparing for a fight, but Maxine merely came into the elevator and sat next to Matt, putting her arm around his shoulders just as the doors closed again.

At length, after staying defiantly silent for almost five minutes, Matt finally gave in and wrapped his arms around her waist, allowing the tears, that had been threatening to fall since he'd found Angel's phone, to come.

Cold. That was the first thing Angel was aware of. And hard. And pain—on the back of her head. Unfortun

* * *

><p>ately, the situation was more familiar than she liked to admit. She knew what was happening, and being kidnapped was not fun.<p>

The best possible thing she could do at the moment was stay down until her head stopped spinning and she could remember exactly what had gotten her here in the first place.

How _did_ she get here again? Her memory was a little fuzzy at the moment, but she recalled…. The bar. They were at a bar. But what bar? And why were they there—that seemed important. Something about…

Angel bolted straight up, but immediately regretted it. Pain exploded throughout her skull, temporarily stunning her train of though. The throbbing eventually faded and angel opened her eyes, having to blink away the double vision. Of course she had a concussion.

What was she thinking about again?

Shauna!

Angel looked around; only a small amount of light came from a couple of small windows high in the walls, leaving shadows all over the small room. Probably ten by ten feet, thick concrete walls, and what looked like a heavy metal door—at least as far as she could see with the gray fog clouding her eyes.

Shauna had to be somewhere around here. She turned around quickly, bracing herself with her hands, and another shot of pain went through her head. After a moment, she opened her eyes again and squinted into the dark. She didn't see anything at first, but then a shape began to form out of the darkness, facing the wall. Angel rolled over to face the shape and proceeded to half-crawl and half-scoot over to what she hoped was her partner.

She touched a shoulder. Warm. Alive. "Shauna?" she shook it, but received no response. She felt the fabric of the shirt. It was Shauna alright. "Hey, you've gotta wake up." Her voice was gravelly and her mouth dry.

Angel shook Shauna again, and said softly, "Come on, now." She felt Shauna's neck. Strong pulse, maybe a little fast. Angel remembered that she had been drugged. She rolled her onto her back and listened for breath. Good. At least she wasn't dead.

Angel straightened and looked around. The two windows were partially open, letting in a small breeze. The light was moonlight, she determined, moving directly into the rays. She stood with some effort and stood below them. Even with her arms outstretched, she still could not reach.

She turned around and looked to the door. She walked up to it and ran her hand along the edge. Airtight. The doorknob didn't turn. There was no way they were getting out of here without being let out. Unless….

Angel felt for her thigh holster. No gun, no cell phone. She must have dropped them when she was knocked out. She then reached into her bra and pulled out her favorite switchblade. At least she had something.

Upon further investigation, she found that Shauna's weapon was gone as well as Angel was searching Shauna's pockets, her eyes cracked open and she made a noise like she was about to throw up.

Angel brushed the hair out of her partner's eyes. "Hey, you with me, Probie?"

"Don't feel good," she said weakly.

"Yeah, I bet. Can you sit up?"

Shauna nodded, eyes closed and she allowed herself to be lifted from the floor. "Let me guess…"

"Yep. We got our asses kidnapped by a crazy serial killer."

Shauna stayed upright for a moment, but then leaned forward and put her head in her hands with a groan. Then she suddenly sat back up and looked Angel in the eye. Or at least Angel supposed she was looking her in the eye. "I remember…. It's Dave, isn't it?"

Angel looked at her sadly. "Sure is."

Shauna sighed and looked at the floor. "Damn. I guess you and McGee were right all along."

"Sorry, babe." Angel patted her partner on the shoulder. "You have no idea how much I wish I was wrong."

Shauna nodded and looked around the room. "I suppose you already checked for a way out?"

"No luck. The door is bolted, the windows are too high. Walls seem pretty solid."

"Well, fuck."

"Hey, McGee'll get us out of here."

"Do you really believe that?" She looked uncertain.

To be quite honest, Angel was really having her doubts about the whole situation—not being helped by the concussion she sure had—but Shauna needed something to hold onto. "Of course I do," she said with hopefully a meaningful smile. "I'm sure he's on our trail right now. I mean, look who we're talking about here."

Shauna grinned knowingly.

"_Probie, Probie, Probie," Angel said, coming into the bullpen, and shaking her head slowly from side to side. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" _

_Shauna gave her an annoyed look. "What in the hell are you talking about?"_

"_Ignore her, Shauna," Matt said, setting a set of papers on the boss's desk. "She's just trying to get a rise out of you. That's what she does when she's bored." _

_Angel smiled evilly. "Oh, if only it were that simple, Agent Jericho," she said to Matt, but never took her eyes off Shauna. "I'm not the one who's been getting a rise out of you."_

_Shauna, at first looked at her like she was crazy, but then something seemed to click in her mind and her lips parted slightly in surprise. _

"_What?" Matt stood up. "You mean she actually has something. He positioned himself between the two of them, Shauna sitting behind her desk and Angel standing in front of it, and crossed his arms, waiting for something to happen. _

_Shauna closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes. "How could you possibly know? I never told anyone."_

"_Told anyone what?" Matt interjected, but was hushed by both his partners, who were locked in a staring match of death._

"_I have my ways," Angel smiled. _

_Shauna's eyes widened. "Did you hurt him?"_

"_Hurt who?" Matt asked exasperatedly._

_McGee, naturally, chose that exact moment to show up. "She's boinking Palmer's new assistant."_

_Matt snorted, Shauna gasped, and Angel stared in awe. "Oh, you're good, Boss. I had to threaten the kid within an inch of his life to get him to tell me." _

_Shauna stood up in anger, and pointed at Angel. "You—"_

"_Gear up!" McGee announced, grabbing his badge and gun from his desk. "Dead Marine at Quantico."_

_They all rushed to comply._

With no warning, Shauna cried out and hunched over, arms around her middle. "What's wrong?" Angel asked, panicked and reached out for her partner.

Shauna took a few shallow breaths and answered, "My stomach."

Angel wrapped her arms around Shauna and allowed her to lean against her. "Must be the drugs he got you with." Shauna let out a small whine and winced as another pain shot through her body. "It'll be over soon."

**AN: As always, constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	7. Those Nights

**Brief summarization of characters:**

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new Probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

Chapter Seven: Those Nights  
><span>Those Nights-Skillet<span>

_I struggle to dismiss these intrusive memories, but they return to haunt my waking thoughts. Cause me to wonder about my decisions and make me question the present course._

* * *

><p>Of all the things McGee could have, and probably should have, been thinking about (like coordinating with Metro to set up a search, or how to allocate the work of going through the bar surveillance and the CCTV) but the only thing stuck in his head were the words, 'Not again.' Also accompanied by one of Gibbs' rules, 'Never take anything for granted.' How could this happen?<p>

Ziva was driving again. Her eyes were glued on the road and she hadn't said anything directly to him since they left the bar. He wouldn't have either if he had been completely, utterly wrong about the kind of man Dave was.

He wanted to be angry at her—that would have been easy—but her silence spoke volumes of what she was likely screaming at herself inside her head.

"Ziva—" McGee began.

"No." She didn't look at him. "There is nothing to say."

"Ziva—"

"Stop."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is."

"Ziva—"

"If it were not for me, Shauna would not have been so trusting of him. I _was _trying to make a point. You knew it. I knew it. It is all my fault." A single, glistening tear ran down the side of her slightly lined face, suspended on the curve of her jaw, and then disappeared into her dark jacket.

McGee watched her for a moment longer. It was absurd to think that she would have said otherwise if she had known that Dave—if that was his real name—was the killer. The Ziva he'd known for years would have never done anything to willingly harm him or his team.

"Ziva," he said softly, and this time she didn't try to stop him. "You can't hide from me. That's not going to help anybody."

She took a deep breath.

McGee gently pried her right hand from the steering wheel and held it in his own. "You and me; put us together, we can do anything." She closed her eyes momentarily and more tears fell. He squeezed her hand. "Will you help me?"

She kept her eyes on the road, but her fingers slowly closed around his own.

* * *

><p>"Comms are out of range, no cell phones. Nothing! I can't get anything." Johnathan was frantic. He kept running from screen to screen in MTAC, unable to find any kind of connection to McGee's missing agents. Ziva could do nothing but watch. She could tell that he was working himself so hard out of guilt. All of them were. Sarah was still supervising the scene of the latest victim, Bobby and Palmer were both in their respective labs, and McGee, Matt, and Maxine were going over surveillance video in the bullpen.<p>

Ziva looked at her watch. 4:17 and no chance of sleep from anyone that did not include a forced sedative.

Ziva's phone broke the silence. She looked at the id. Security? Why would they be calling? "Hello?"

"Special Agent David?"

"Yes."

"We have your son down here, asking to come up."

"My—Natanael? What is he doing here?" she said, standing and heading for the door. Death and disaster scenarios were running through her head at the thought of him driving an hour to get here from their home.

"He says he came to see you."

"I'll be right there." She hung up. Even as she ran down the stairs and to the elevator, no one looked up. Instead, they all kept their tired, red eyes fixed on the screens.

As soon as the silver doors opened to the ground floor, Ziva sprinted out of them and down the hallway. "Natanael! What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Natanael stood on the other side of the metal detectors, the hand of the night security guard resting on his shoulder. He was still in his pajamas, sleep pants and an old ratty t-shirt. "You sounded worried when you called before." His dark eyes were filled with concern. "I had to make sure you were alright."

Ziva finally reached him and motioned for the guard to let him through. She put her arm around his back and led him back to the elevator. "It is not your job to worry about me, dear. I am the parent."

"What has happened, _doda_?" he asked her calmly. He stopped in his tracks. "You must tell me. I can help."

Ziva shook her head sadly. "No, you can't"

"Please, Ziva." He hugged her, catching her by surprise. "Let me in," he said repeating the words she'd said to him so long ago.

Ziva smiled and wrapped her arms around her adopted son. Four years ago, he would not have hugged her, much less spoken to her. He had come so far.

They broke apart and Natanael brushed the tears from her face with his thumbs. Ziva touched the sides of his face. "How did I ever deserve someone as wonderful as you?" she asked him.

"What has happened?" he asked again, a softly concerned look in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. "Angel and Shauna have been kidnapped."

His eyes widened in fear. "By who?"

"Do you remember, from the news about those two Sailors that were found murdered?"

He nodded.

"The man who killed them is a serial killer. That is who has them."

"But you have an idea where they are?"

The new look in his eyes was of horror. Too much in his young life.

Ziva drew in another shaky breath and shook her head. "No."

Natanael hugged her again, burying his face in her neck. She brushed down his messed up, curly hair, having to reach slightly, for he was half a foot taller than she. "It is alright. We will get them back."

He lifted up his head and allowed himself to be guided to the elevators. Ziva could see it now, in the way that he walked and the look on his face, how tired he was.

She took him up to the main floor and then to the elevator that would take them down to Bobby's lab. McGee looked concerned to see Natanael there, but she nodded her head to indicate that it was alright.

Bobby, who looked ready fall on his face (but was determined not to rest until his dynamic duo was back) offered them the blow-up mattress he'd already set up for himself, saying that he would gladly take the couch when he was done for the night.

When they lay down, Natanael promptly turned on his side and laid his head on Ziva's chest, his long arm draping across her hips. "Is McGee alright?" he asked quietly.

Ziva buried her fingers in his hair. "No. And he will not be until we find them."

She felt him nod, and, a moment later, his breathing evened out and his heart rate began to slow. She stroked his hair as his mere presence lulled her to sleep.

* * *

><p>McGee looked at the clock. 7:33 AM. It was now Sunday morning. It had been hours since he's seen Ziva walk by with Natanael . He had been so focused, he'd forgotten to try and make her go home.<p>

She really was a great mother, and almost never left him home by himself (perhaps that was what had caused him to come to NCIS in the early hours of morning,) and the last thing McGee wanted was to make Natanael worry. He really liked Shauna, her being still so much of a kid herself. When Ziva invited them all for picnics and get-togethers on their days off, Shauna was the only one who could keep up with the energetic youth, racing and wrestling with him. As for the rest of the team, Angel would bitch about getting old, Sarah always found something to elicit an argument out of her partner and Matt would just sit and watch, enjoying them all.

It was days like those when the emptiness of his lonely existence would ease to be replaced with the elation of having people who needed him. Dare he say—like a family? Just to sit with Ziva at a table, watching and quietly discussing their teams gave him enough distraction so as not to think about the members of his family that were no longer there. A constant reminder of the pain he couldn't let go of. Would those days ever happen again?

McGee had already been over the video twice. And there was a lot of video. He looked around. Matt had passed out at his desk an hour ago and Maxine was spread out on the floor behind him. They had been unwilling to leave each others' presence all night.

McGee stood quietly, careful not to wake them, and left for the coffee shop he frequented in the mornings.

He returned nearly an hour later with a cup for everyone, a box of donuts and a Mountain Dew for Natanael (Ziva would be pissed, but even the kid needed some caffeine.)

He looked into Ziva's team's space as he passed to see Johnathan sitting at his desk, eyes focused on his computer screen. McGee changed direction and headed to him. "What are you still doing awake?" he said, setting a large cup in front of Johnathan's face.

His quick eyes never left the monitor, bouncing from face to face, looking for anything that would help. "Couldn't sleep. No time."

McGee reached across his line of sight and hit the power button, effectively turning the screen black. "You're no good if you can't concentrate. You've been upstairs all night."

Johnathan looked up at him with determined eyes. "You didn't sleep."

"I'm the boss. I'm not supposed to."

"That's a lie."

McGee rolled his eyes.

"If you're not asleep, then why is Ziva?"

"Because her son showed up in the middle of the night. She couldn't leave him alone."

Johnathan tried to stifle a yawn and looked down at the coffee, without touching it. "I should have been paying more attention. I was in charge of operations."

"It's not your fault either."

"Might as well be."

McGee picked up the cup and placed it in Johnathan's hand. "At least take a quick break. Get up. Walk around. Then you can come back and look at the video again."

He nodded and went to the stairs.

McGee walked around to his space, careful to be quiet, and set the coffee on Matt's desk. He then sat down at his own desk, and opened up the footage again.

* * *

><p>Shauna leaned back up against the wall with Angel's head in her lap. She was wary of letting Angel sleep, but had agreed to wake her up every hour (after Angel had completely schooled her in the number of ways she had been hurt, and insisted that a little sleep would do her some good.)<p>

The light was slowly becoming brighter outside, bringing the room into better view. The walls were a dull gray, unpainted. The door was solid, of that Shauna was sure. It was obvious they were nowhere near civilization, for no sounds other than the wind and the birds could be heard from the windows.

Shauna leaned her head back against the cool concrete. She felt fine now, for the drugs had worn off, and Angel, who had, in fact, had concussions before, would be fine before too long. She just couldn't help thinking about what lay ahead for the two of them and whether McGee really would find them before the inevitable happened. She knew he was good at what he did, but the killer (she refused to call him Dave anymore) was also good. He clearly had plenty of practice.

(Another unfortunate thing that Shauna had found in the corner of the room was a bucket. She had wondered what that smell was. They were wary of using it, but it couldn't be helped.)

As the hours passed, Shauna found it harder and harder to believe that they would be rescued soon. She just couldn't help but think that she could have been in here alone; likely as many victims before her had been.

So why the sudden change? The two Navy officers were dumped within days of each other and in the same general location as well. They must have been in here together. She seemed to recall a class she had taken in college about serial killers. (It was a weekend class, hardly anybody had enrolled.) Serial killers liked patterns, i.e. in the current case, one victim every three to four months. Easy. He had his fun, got to relive it and when he decided that the memories weren't enough anymore, then he'd find another victim. So why so many all at once? The possibility of a copycat could be ruled out, because all the media knew was that two women had been killed.

According to her old professor, serial killers almost never broke pattern, unless something drastic and out of their control affected it. Three main examples were, the possibility of getting caught, the death or sickness of a loved one, or anger at coworkers or society as a whole, influenced by some event. The possibility of getting caught would only cause him to slow down, leaving the second two. The third option was unlikely and difficulty to diagnose. The death of a loved one, however, was the most likely cause for this case.

A death would surely explain the need to kill more, and, of course, it also made him more vulnerable to detection. It made him sloppy. She looked back up at the windows. If she had to guess, she would say it was getting close to noon, for there were no direct rays of sunlight shining through the windows anymore, just the glow of daylight that she hoped she would be able to see and appreciate again after this was over.

But why should Shauna think about those awful things. Why give the him the power? (God knew she'd always had a problem with that).

She closed her eyes, ran her fingers through Angel's long blonde hair, and tried to remember a time when she was happy.

_It had been one long, grueling week for Shauna St. Clair. She had been unceremoniously dumped on Special Agent Timothy McGee's team to assist with a murder investigation. One of the team, Matt Jericho, was out sick and would be for a couple weeks. _

_Agent McGee, of whom she had heard scary, yet brilliant stories about when it came to solving cases, he clearly didn't like new people. And he showed it. He never spoke directly to her. Instead he had Angel DeLuca, his Senior Field Agent (a title she liked to hold over Shauna's head at nearly every turn) dictate his wishes (her words) of what he needed done._

_Mostly, it was playing 'phone tag' with the FBI White Collar Crimes Division to try and determine who the suspect would turn to for help in fleeing the county. Once she managed to figure out where he was going, she was then forced to go on a stakeout with none other than Agent DeLuca herself, who had a tendency to screw around on the job and take all the credit afterwards. (When Shauna tried to threaten to tell Agent McGee about it, she found herself stunned by the quick response. "Rule One: Never screw over your partner.")_

_After nearly five hours of sitting in a car with binoculars, the suspect showed up, saw them, and tried to rabbit. They chased him through three alleys, two crowded city blocks, and into an in-use shipping warehouse before they finally caught up to him. _

_Angel tried to talk him into giving her the gun that had come out of nowhere, but, unsurprisingly, that didn't work. He panicked and shot Angel in the leg. Shauna didn't think; she kicked the gun out of his hand, punched him in the solar plexus, knocking him off his feet, and held him down while Angel tossed her the handcuffs._

"_You okay?" Shauna asked Angel, who was wrapping her jacked around the wound. _

"_Yeah," she said roughly, pulling the knot tight. She looked back up a Shauna. "Good job." She indicated the suspect. "I would have just shot him." _

_The next day, Agent Jericho was back, and Angel, crutches and all (and completely against the doctor's orders) was sitting in the office. It was clearly her time to leave. She gathered up her things from the empty desk across from Agent McGee's desk and stood between Angel and Matt's._

"_Sorry I couldn't work with you, Agent Jericho." He nodded politely to her. "Agent DeLuca," Angel looked up at her with some amusement. "It's been…. Well…interesting." _

_Shauna went to leave, but was stopped by Agent McGee, who had somehow materialized out of thin air right in front of her. _

"_Where are you going?" he asked. The first words he'd spoken to her. He had a calm, quiet, albeit intimidating voice, and she had to fight not to stare in awe._

"_Back to Quantico. The analysts office," she managed, although her heart was pounding from the shock._

_His expression did not change, but he shook his head and handed her a large manila envelope. "You're on my team now." he pointed to the desk she had just vacated. "Make yourself at home."_

**AN: I sincerely apologize for taking so long to update, but now that it is Spring Break and I have nothing else to do, I should be getting a lot more done. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	8. Hole Solution

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

**Also, this is the first time you get to see Natanael in depth, so his background is: when he was thirteen, his parents were killed and Ziva moved him back to D.C. He is seventeen now. **

That Empty Feeling of Being Full

Chapter 8: Hole Solution  
><span>Hole Solution - Android Lust<span>

_The "what ifs" "if onlies" and "should haves" _  
><em> encroach upon my peaceful existence. <em>  
><em> Memories from the past <em>  
><em> flood my mind with unwelcome &amp; unwanted images.<br>Stand up and walk out of your history. _

McGee stood on Miranda Holdin's closed-in front porch, surrounded by a multitude of green, leafy plants and the occasional blooming flower. He inhaled the scent of fresh potting soil and the pine that made up the floorboards that she just gotten replaced. He didn't move for a minute, trying to pull himself together; it wouldn't do for him to lose control now.

He'd thought that this time, it would work. How could he have been so stupid? He had been so sure that they had both wanted the same thing.

He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, and thought back to the night before.

"_Tim. We need to talk," Miranda said, from where she sat on the small leather couch in his apartment._

_He smiled lightly from the kitchen, where he had been digging around in the fridge. He stood up and went to sit next her, taking her dainty hands in his. "What is it?" he asked, playing with her ring finger where the modest diamond lay as he usually did. _

_She watched his fingers as he did this, smiling sadly, and gently pulled her hand away. She kept her eyes down. "That's what we need to talk about."_

_It was like McGee's lungs stopped working. Was this really happening? He gaped at her and said, "Was - is it something I did?"_

_She looked back up at him. Was that pain or fear in her eyes? "Look, McGee." _McGee? What happened to Tim? _"I just….This isn't working for me."_

_McGee ducked his head down to look her more clearly in the eyes. Regret? "Why not?" he asked. _

_Her eyes watered up, but she blinked the tears away. "You're not the right man for me. I never meant for it to go on this long or this far."_

_This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening. As much as he wanted to be angry right now, his heart just couldn't ignore the fact that he loved this woman. _Thought he loved her. _Maybe he could get angry. _

_He stood abruptly, making Miranda gasp. "You mean to tell me that all this time, you let me believe that you loved me? That you let me think that we were going to get married?" She stared up at him with tears in her eyes. _Good, _he thought for the first time in his life. _She needs to feel the pain that I'm feeling right now. How dare- _"How could you do this to me?" _

_She stood up, anger overcoming her own features. "How could you do this to _me_?" She was standing on her toes, trying to appear taller. "You rushed me into all this before I was ready. And I was too nice to say no, because I didn't want to hurt you. I did love you!" she went to leave, but McGee held his arm out, easily stopping her. _

"_You didn't have to say yes, you know. If you really didn't want to hurt me, the least you could've done would be to tell me that wasn't what you wanted. I would've understood."_

"_No, you wouldn't have. You say that, but you know that if I had said no, you would have been gone in a week! All you want is marriage! All you wanted was to get your little ring on my finger, to label me, and look where it got you! Look where it got us!" she pushed his arm out of the way and ran to the door, grabbing her purse on her way. _

_She turned around, back to the open door. The fire was gone from her eyes, only to be replaced with hurt. "Because of what we had, I'll give you one last piece of advice." She took a deep breath, reigning in her emotions. "Next time, pay a little more attention to the woman, instead of her finger," she took the engagement ring off and placed it on the kitchen counter, "and maybe then you'll get just what you wanted." _

_With that, she left, closing the door gently behind her. He would have preferred if she had slammed it. At least then it wouldn't have left him feeling empty, as if something was missing. _

He hadn't cried. Just laid down on his couch and didn't sleep. He knew that he was wrong and that's why he was here, standing on her front porch. He knocked on the door before he lost his courage.

After a pause, she finally answered. She didn't look surprised to see him standing there, but she looked determined to make him leave. He held up his hand in surrender. "I'm not here to yell or guilt you into anything." Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously. "I just wanted to apologize for the way that I acted last night."

It was clearly the last thing that she had expected. She stepped outside and closed the door, but they both kept their distance. "You're right. I wasn't paying attention to you, and I'm sorry. It was stupid of me and now I've lost you."

"You're right. It was stupid," she said, but there was no venom in her words. She took a deep breath. "But I should've just said no."

McGee sat bolt upright in his desk chair. After a moment, he remembered where he was and peeled the piece of paper off his face. He looked to his right to see Matt watching him, with concern in his dark eyes. "You alright, Boss?"

McGee nodded and blinked a few times, attempting to focus his mind. It had been nearly a year since that night, but he still managed to relive it every once in a while.

"What time is it?" he asked Matt.

Matt looked at his watch. "Almost noon. Thanks for the coffee, by the way," he said, sitting back and rubbing his hand down his face. "I guess you stayed up all night."

McGee grunted in the affirmative. He stood up, trying to get some blood back into his legs. "Anything new?" he asked.

Matt shook his head and lowered his eyes. "Johnathan is running Dave's face through facial recognition, but he hasn't got any hits yet. Maxine and I are still trying to figure out which car is his, but he parked well out of the camera's view. She's-" He glanced behind him. McGee looked over the barrier to see Maxine back at her own desk, asleep on her arms. "She was trying to match vehicles from last night and from last week when the last victim was taken. The camera on the corner near the bar." He cracked his neck. "We just can't seem to get a good lead."

McGee nodded and sat down on the front of his own desk. He looked at Angel's and Shauna's desks. All the electronics were off and there were papers littered everywhere. Angel had left her jacket on the back of her chair yesterday, insisting that it didn't go with her outfit. The skirt and heels that Shauna had taken off still lay on the floor where she had thrown them down when yelling at Angel for being so rough with her.

"Boss?" Matt asked tentatively. McGee looked at him to see him staring at the desks as well. His eyes were red. He probably hadn't slept very long. "What do you think he's-" he closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. McGee didn't say anything.

Matt opened his eyes and looked to the skylight, taking a calming breath. "You know what, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they're still alive." He rubbed his hands together slowly, thoughtfully and looked to McGee. "Just tell me we'll get them back, Boss."

They looked at each other silently for a minute. McGee new the odds were against them the longer they went without a lead and Matt knew it as well. He just needed to hear it said.

"Yeah. We'll get them back." (One way or another).

* * *

><p>"Angel. Angel wake up!"<p>

Angel slowly came back to consciousness. Someone was shaking her shoulders, sounded like Shauna. She opened her eyes and took in how much brighter the room they were in had gotten. And how much that hurt her head.

Shauna was patting the side of her face. "What? I'm up. What's wrong?" she asked, sitting up slowly.

"Someone's coming," she whispered, looking at the door with some panic.

Angel stood, clinging to the wall as she did so. "Come on," she said to Shauna, beckoning her to do the same. A door creaked in the distance, echoing off a large cavernous sounding space. Just where exactly were they?

The footsteps got closer and closer, and Shauna grabbed Angel's hand. Angel thought for a second of the knife in her bra, but having it immediately taken away wouldn't help anybody in the long run. They both stood against the wall furthest from the door and waited.

He came in quickly, saw them and took three long strides to get to them. Did he look that intimidating at the bar? He immediately tore Shauna from her grasp and held her up off the ground by her arms.

"Who do you work for?" he shouted in her face. He didn't have a British accent before, did he?

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

He threw her down on the ground and went to Angel. He stood inches in front of her with anger in his eyes and spittle flying out of his mouth as he screamed. "I'm not a thick, you know. Normal girls just don't go carrying around sigs like that."

Angel didn't back down. "Maybe, we're just smarter than normal girls." She could see fire burning in his eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, Angel saw Shauna try to stand and go for the door. Angel must have given off some tell, because he turned around and grabbed her partner by the middle and threw her roughly against the wall. Shauna did little more than crumple after that.

He turned back and wrapped his hand around Angel's throat. Not enough to completely cut off air, but still enough to hurt. "Think you're clever, do yeh? Who. Do. You. Work. For."

This man was definitely smarter than he looked. He must have been faking an American accent to make himself less noticeable. That sure changed things. Immigration would be able to tell the team who he was in an instant. Too bad they knew nothing about it. Angel looked him straight in the eye, ignoring Shauna's moan. She couldn't do anything to help her right now.

"I heard you talking to someone. Your boss?" he tightened his grip. "Called her 'Shauna.'" He looked down, out of her line of sight. "Thought you said it was Cari?" He kicked Shauna, eliciting only a pitiful 'umph.'

Angel tried to hit him back, flailing with her arms and legs, but it was no use. Her oxygen starved body just didn't have the strength to fight back. Her vision was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges.

The unwitting distraction was enough, though, for when he looked back to Angel, Shauna jumped from the ground and hit him in the middle. They went flying to the ground as Angel fell to her knees, gasping for air.

Shauna was on top, and she punched him twice in the face, before he regained his power and tossed her off to the side. She scrambled to get up, but he jumped on her. Angel was powerless to do anything other than watch as she clawed at her throat.

In a flash, the fight was over, and 'Dave' stood up and stepped up to Angel. Shauna lay on the ground with her eyes closed. Angel wanted to check on her, but 'Dave' stood in the way. "Look," he said, a little trickle of blood running down his chin. "I know you're cops, so why don't you just tell me who you work for, and I'll see if we can't arrange a little trade."

Angel knew what he would do to her if she refused, but she had been tortured before. She took one long, painful breath of air and slowly shook her head. He wasn't allowed to go near anymore of her friends.

* * *

><p>"Why are we not getting anywhere?" McGee said, pacing back and forth in the bullpen. It was nearly six in the evening and not one of them had been home in over twenty-four hours. "There has to be something!"<p>

"Boss, we have very little to go on," Matt sat back from his computer and stretched. McGee had only seen him get up from his desk twice all day. "Johnathan can't narrow down the search criteria for facial recognition and Maxine and Sarah are having to run all the plates from the video separately." McGee looked over the barrier at the Ziva's team. They were working diligently.

Matt was uncannily calm. It was the way that he was trained by the Agency. 'Don't panic. Do everything possible to carry out the mission.' Now the mission was to save his partners and McGee hoped that they would if even for Matt's sake. "And what are you doing?" McGee asked.

"I'm looking at all the video we've got of him."

"Looking for what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I'll know it when I find it." He looked up at McGee. "Something just seems off."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. His voice? Maybe…. I can't tell."

McGee sighed. More like Matt was trying to learn all his mannerisms so that he would be better at fighting him when the time came. Or killing him.

Matt had told him once about how the agents were rained in the CIA. When they got a live target, they were forced to memorize everything about them. Their name, their face, the way they moved, the way they spoke. If the target breathed differently, the agents were meant to notice. Anything that would set them apart from the crowd. And Matt was very good.

"Have you seen Ziva?"

Matt looked up from the screen. "Umm… I think she's down with Bobby."

"And Natanael?"

Matt nodded. "She's trying to keep him distracted since he won't go home."

McGee shook his head. That kid was determined. "Alright. I'll be down there." He leaned down in front of Matt and looked him in the eye. "Please take a break. Don't make me order you."

He nodded once.

McGee stepped out of the stairwell next to Bobby's lab. He hadn't been very fond of using elevators much since…well…. He rolled his neck around his shoulders for a minute and leaned back against a wall. It was his job to be strong and keep his friends from breaking down, and that included Natanael. Ziva had informed him that her son looked up to him much more than McGee expected.

When Natanael was fourteen, and still having problems, he ran away. Ziva was worried sick for hours, and still there was no sign of him. McGee had offered himself and his team to find him.

_It was after dark as McGee drove down the city streets near Ziva's house. Natanael hadn't showed up after school and Ziva really didn't know what to do. She was still new to this whole parenting thing. _

_McGee had called in his team to help in the search. He knew that eventually Natanael would come back, kids always did (if McGee's childhood was anything to go by), but it wouldn't be safe to let him stay out in the city overnight. They had four cars out looking for him: McGee, Matt and Angel, Maxine and Sarah, and Ziva._

_McGee had been out for almost six hours, and getting a little worried himself, when he finally found him. He almost didn't see Natanael at first, he was sitting in the shadows next to the front steps of a house, knees drawn up to his chest and his head down. When McGee got out of his car and shut the door, Natanael's head snapped up. He had obviously been asleep. It took him a minute to recognize McGee, but when he did, he only closed himself up more. _

_McGee approached him slowly and sat down. Natanael didn't say anything. He was shivering slightly, so McGee gave him his jacket. "Ziva's worried sick, you know. She was so scared you were dead." _

_"Death would be a relief to me now," Natanael said quietly in his thick accent._

_McGee had had a feeling that was coming. "Don't you think that's a little selfish?"_

_Natanael looked at McGee, almost in shock._

_He continued. "Look, I know it's hard. You're parents are gone, you're in a completely different world, and you feel like nobody understands you. But tell me how dying would solve any of that. Wouldn't your mother and father want you to be happy?"_

_He remained silent. McGee could make out dried tearstains on his cheeks. _

_"And what about Ziva?" Nathanael's jaw clenched at her name. "She loves you so much, Natanael. And she wants to help you. We both want to help."_

_He took in one deep breath of the city air and nodded. "Okay."_

_McGee put his arm around Nathanael's shoulders and pulled out his phone to call Ziva. _

_When she got there, they both cried, clinging to each other in the middle of the street. After a while, they went to leave, but before Natanael got in the car, he ran to McGee and hugged him tightly, followed by Ziva. _

_"Thank you, McGee," she whispered. "Thank you so much."_

_McGee finally strode into the lab. "McGee!"Natanael called out and ran to him, hugging him around the neck. "Are you okay?"_

_Natanael was a very straightforward person; that's what McGee loved about him. He wrapped his arms around Nathanael's back and saw Ziva looking at them both fondly. _

_McGee sighed heavily. "I'm okay, kid," he said calmly. "How are you holding up?"_

_"I am fine," he said in a hushed voice into McGee's shoulder. "I know you will get them back."_

_"I hope so." They let go. "Have you gotten anything new?" he asked Bobby, who was standing in front of the computer terminal._

_Bobby sighed and shook his head. "I'm still trying to track down the soil sample. It didn't match Rock Creek Park. I think I found some on our last victim, but there wasn't enough to confirm." He turned back to the screen and handed McGee a piece of paper—a printout from the mass spec. "There's an excess of sulfites and sulfates, but that's not very unique for around here. Maybe if I had more, I could figure it out, but…"_

_"So, nothing yet?"_

"Well, I'm also trying to track down the dealer of the rohypnol. Metro has the same chemical composition on file, but It's for their last victim and they have less than we do." He looked at McGee, and then at Ziva, who were both raising their eyebrows. "No. Nothing yet. But I really am trying. I just need more evidence."

McGee nodded and turned to Ziva. "You been down to see Palmer yet?"

She nodded. "He has nothing new either. Her injuries are exactly the same as the previous two. She was beaten, she fought back, and then she was strangled."

McGee looked at Natanael, who was standing beside him. His eyes were cast down and McGee saw his swallow anxiously.

McGee clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Come on. Why don't me, you, and Ziva go get something to eat and then bring dinner back for everyone?"

Natanael nodded and smiled half-heartedly. Ziva grabbed his jacket and helped him put it on. They had gone home for lunch and to change.

"I like hamburgers!" Bobby called as the exited the lab. "Lots of ketchup!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: School is becoming more to deal with, but at the very least, you can expect a new chapter every week. Hope you are all enjoying my story so far, and thank you to all who reviewed. As always, I am open to questions, criticism, compliments, and suggestions, so go for it. The story is about halfway over, give or take. Any little scene you may want to see bt characters, I am willing to give it a try. **


	9. 24

**Brief summarization of characters:**

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

**Chapter Nine: 24  
><strong>24 by JEM

_When I thought I've been learning how to live, I've been learning how to die._

"You know what this place reminds me of?" Angel asked, interrupting the nearly deafening silence.

Shauna sighed from where she lay flat on the ground next to her partner. "What's that?"

Angel's eyes scanned the room again. She swallowed dryly. "It reminds me of the last time I was kidnapped. You remember that…that bunker you found me in?" she said weakly, with a slight slur that had become progressively worse since she had woken up.

Shauna grinned a little at the irony. "Uh, yeah. I also remember that you were in there by yourself for so long that you started hallucinating. You came flying at me and Matt when we opened the door, because you thought that we were evil bats come to suck you blood." Shauna laughed lightly.

"Yeah," said Angel fondly. She had a twisted little grin which complimented the cross-eyed look she kept giving Shauna. "Good times."

"You broke two of Matt's ribs."

"Aww, Secret Agent Mattie could handle it."

Shauna rolled her eyes. "Do you want to know what it reminds me of?"

Angel shrugged.

"A box."

Angel hummed, and swallowed thickly again. She hadn't moved more than an inch since waking, and if the bruises on nearly all her exposed skin were anything to go by, Shauna didn't blame her. Angel had tried to downplay her injuries when Shauna asked, but the hitch in her breathing, the wince whenever she attempted to move her left leg, and the lethargic look in her eyes proved that she had been brutally beaten while Shauna was unconscious.

"You know…you know what, Probie?" Angel said.

"What?" Shauna said looking back up at the ceiling. She wasn't too badly injured herself, but a small gash on the back of her head still continued to bleed sluggishly, no matter what she did to it.

"We don't talk much."

Shauna raised her eyebrows. "Yes we do."

"No, we don't. I - I mean, sure we talk about…we talk about work and the I torture you about your love life-"

"Or lack thereof."

"Yes. And sometimes we team up to annoy Mattie," apparently she had taken to using the nickname she had given him a long time ago, "but we don't ever talk about the important stuff."

Shauna drug her tongue around her dry mouth thoughtfully. The lack of water from the previous day beginning to take it's toll. "And what is important?"

"Well," said Angel with another cough. "What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?"

"Yeah. Hell, we've been partners for over a year now and I don't even know your favorite color. How s-stupid is that?" she said with a slight shudder and a sharp intake of breath. Shauna's heart clenched at the thought of her partner in pain. What really concerned her was the fact that Angel didn't seem to have the presence of mind to hide it like she normally would have.

Shauna contemplated her partner's newfound sense of perspective while also noticing the feel of Angel's bare shoulder against her own. Warm, soft, but trembling. Probably, she was hurt much worse than Shauna could even gauge, and her concussed brain had convinced itself that the time was ripe to question it's own mortality.

Shauna was worried. Angel wasn't exactly young, and based on the injuries, Shauna wasn't sure she had much of a chance of coming out of this on the other side. What if McGee didn't find them? What if they had to escape on their own? Could Angel even make it?

Would Shauna have to - have to leave her behind? No. absolutely not. Shauna was a good cop. And being a good cop meant protecting others no matter what the cost.

But what if escape was the only way out?

"Shauna!"

"What?"

"Answer the question. What's your favorite color?"

Shauna smiled, but it felt heartless. If she had been looking at herself at that moment, she would have said that it didn't reach her eyes. "Um, I don't know… orange?"

"Orange?" Angel said quietly, but with all the indignation she could muster. "What the hell kind of favorite color is that?"

"Seems perfectly reasonable to me."

"But orange? It's so plain…simple. Boring. There has to be more t-to it than that."

"Okay, then. What yours?"

Angel suddenly god deadly serious as she thought about her answer. She winced as she tried to take a deep breath and Shauna noticed the bruises around her throat had become darker with time. Broken ribs, irritated trachea. Shauna began to wonder how difficult it would be for Angel to recover when this was all over. If it were to end well, that was. If, by some miracle, McGee could find them before it was too late.

Maybe they should try to escape. There was no way to guarantee that they would be found alive (no matter what Angel said). But with Angel's leg injured and the serious threat of a punctured lung, getting away could be more dangerous than just waiting for help.

Should they even try?

Shauna was brought back by the quiet deep tone of her partner's voice. "You know that color that leaves turn what the sun shines straight through them? I think that's my favorite. It's a very unshakeable sort of color. Kind of like McGee. You can't always see it, but if you look at it just right, if you," another, louder cough, "if you catch him off guard, you know tat he does what he does because he cares."

"That's very sentimental. For you."

Angel shrugged as best she could, her eyes blinking sleepily. "I have my moments."

"He will find us, you know?"

Angel nodded stiffly. "I'm glad you believe that, Probie. And I'm sure he will find you."

"He'll find you, too," Shauna said, looking at Angel in disbelief. "It's not like you to give up. Ever."

Angel let out some sort of cynical breath of air. "Babe, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not doing too goo."

Shauna shook her head in denial as Angel closed her eyes tightly from some pain she couldn't see, ignoring the fact that she had been subconsciously cataloguing Angel's injuries for the past half hour, and disregarding all previous thoughts to the contrary.

"You're going to be fine, Angel. You just need to hold on." She got up on one elbow to look Angel in her pale blue, teary eyes. "Don't you dare give up on me."

Angel swallowed painfully again, the tears breaking free and leaving streaks in the grime covering her face. Her lips parted slightly and she took in a quick, shaky breath.

Shauna nearly froze. She could easily say that this was the most vulnerable she had ever seen her partner. Angel let out a small whimpering sob, which only made the tears flow faster, and Shauna laid her hand on the side of Angel's face. She then did the only thing she knew would at least shock Angel into some semblance of calm, and leaned down and placed her lips gently on her partner's.

The effect was immediate. Her breathing slowed and the trembling even stopped. Shauna only had to wait a moment before she felt Angel smile and she drew her head back. Angel's eyes were closed, a peaceful, yet slightly contemptible, look on her face.

Shauna carefully wrapped her arm loosely around Angel's middle and laid her head down so that her forehead rested against her neck. If she never lived that down, it would be the happiest day of her life.

Angel was quick to fall asleep after that, and so Shauna's thoughts turned back to escape. There was no way that Angel would be able to sit up, much less walk back to civilization.

Shauna could honestly say that she had never been so scared in her life. She knew she had to be the one to figure out a way to save the day, but she didn't know what to do.

However, if she was completely honest, it appeared that she only had two options. She just hoped that it wouldn't come to either. Either stay and hope that McGee would find them in time, or leave Angel behind - her chest constricted at the thought - and run as fast as she could for help. Neither was particularly agreeable. And the possible outcomes in which they both wound up surviving were far and in between. Angel's prospects weren't looking too good, but Shauna couldn't just sit and wait for her to die; the only possible outcome if they weren't found soon. She had to find a way to make sure that Angel survived. There had to be another way.

* * *

><p>Maxine had literally had to drag Matt away from his desk, and then drove him home for some fresh clothes and a shower (and probably more, from what McGee could see), yet both had insisted on coming right back to the office.<p>

Sarah, bless her heart, had gone back to the bar and taken Johnathan with her. They all knew that they could hold out no hope of Dave coming back, but maybe someone, anyone, there might remember something about him.

McGee stood with Ziva leaning against the railing just above the bullpen. Nothing they had done so far had worked. Multiple searches were still being run by the MTAC night crew to find anything that would help. LEOs were still on the ground, searching for any sign. Contact after contact of his and Ziva's team's were doing all they could, and there was really nothing they could do but wait.

"They are so very strong," Ziva said softly.

McGee glanced over at her and then back down to Matt and Maxine. They both sat within a foot of each other, but facing opposite directions. Matt was still obsessively going through video at his desk, and Maxine had taken up the shelf space behind him, her phone cord stretching over the barrier, talking to Metro, checking up, and basically annoying everyone into compliance.

That was usually Angel's job.

McGee cleared his throat, stemming the hurt, and nodded. They were all so determined to see their friends back safe, and none were giving up. Just like they were trained.

* * *

><p><em>flashback.<em>

McGee drove. He practically flew down the two-lane freeway, while Shauna, going from the look on her face, did all she could not to scream at the speed.

"Yes, I'm still here!" she yelled into the phone. "What? They haven't checked in either?" She paused while the other person on the line spoke. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, _'There U.S. Marshal's, they can take care of themselves,'_? Don't you care?"

McGee snagged the phone from her grip. "When did you last hear from them?" he asked calmly.

"About an hour ago," said the Marshals' supervisor. "But they're in the middle of nowhere, I'm surprised you still have reception. And I'm sure if they've hit some trouble, they can take care of it. We're stretched thin enough here as it is."

What McGee really wanted to do was shout at the man for being an incompetent, but all he said was, "Look, I don't know how it works wherever the hell you are, but when I tell my team to check in, then they check in. And if they didn't, it means that something has gone seriously wrong in your witness transfer." He then snapped the phone shut.

"Damn WitSec. Think they're so special."

Shauna looked up at McGee with wide eyes. "Do you really think something's happened, Boss?"

He sighed. "Just keep calling them," he said, and pushed his foot down further.

Nothing could ever be so simple when it came to Angel and Matt. All they were meant to do was drive a hundred miles out into the New Mexican desert, hand a witness off to a couple of Marshals, and come back.

They had made their first half-hour check in, but after the second came and went, Shauna and McGee were out the door. Miles and miles of barren, dusty highways and no possibility of help for at least an hour.

McGee's 'gut' seemed to be trying to tell him something. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour with the feeling of terror at the thought that something terrible could have happened, guilt from yelling at Angel before she'd left, and, not surprisingly, hunger. But he threw the last away; he would eat when his team was back home, safe in D.C.

"Boss, look!" Shauna shouted, pointing a ways up the road to an old abandoned looking building just off the highway. Although the abandoned look was slightly offset by the four SUVs parked in front.

"Two of them are government cars," Shauna yelled, her head sticking about two feet out of the window. A loud sound like a gunshot broke through the wind. "One of them has to be ours." She had her Sig in her right hand, her left holding tightly to the window frame, and knees in the seat.

McGee sped the last fifty feet up to the entrance drive and mad a hard right.

There was a gun battle going on. Five unfriendlies hid behind car doors, firing into what was now clearly a rundown barn. They were so engrossed with the fight, that none of them noticed the fifth car.

McGee skidded to a halt, grabbed the shotgun from the gun rack behind his head, and got out of the car.

One shot was all it took from the larger gun, louder than all the rest. All five bad guys were caught off guard and ducked.

"Federal Agents!" Shauna yelled, gun steady, from where she had climbed up onto the hood of the car, getting herself a better view and commanding attention. "Drop the weapons!"

Dumbfounded, they all did as they were told. At that instant, Matt, Angel, and another tall blonde (one of the Marshals) burst through the side door of the barn and assisted in securing the prisoners. They were quickly handcuffed and lined up, with Shauna standing guard.

McGee turned to give his agents a once over. Matt had what was probably just a graze on his right arm. Angel was panting from the adrenaline, just like everyone else, but otherwise, appeared unharmed. The blonde Marshal's hands, however, were covered in a thick layer of blood. She had a panicked, hurried look in her eyes as she threw the last prisoner to the ground and then ran back inside.

"Boss!" Matt said, gesturing for McGee to follow him inside. "Her partner's wounded. Shot in the chest. Please tell me you have an ambulance on the way."

"No." Fuck. "But—but let's get him in the car." McGee looked around as he stepped through the doors. The blonde Marshal was kneeling in front of her partner who was laid on a wooden bench, brushing the hair out of his damp face with her fingers. She muttered a few words to him and he nodded. There was another body lying a few feet from the door. Their witness, Dillon Masterson, very much dead.

They got the second, very tall, very hurt Marshal into the back of the NCIS Suburban and Matt and the blonde Marshal sped off into the sunset.

McGee turned to Angel and, not so much asked, but glared the question of, "What the hell happened here?"

Angel took a deep breath and attempted to wipe some sweat off her brow, but only wound up smearing more dirt. "Our radiator busted." She held up her hand at McGee's question. "There's no signal out here, Boss. Check your phone. We pulled in here, and the witness flipped out. He started saying something about this not being the plan, and 'they're gonna kill me.' Looks like he set us up for an ambush." She swiped at her forehead again, trying and failing to keep the sweat at bay. Her hands were shaking and nervous tension was rolling off her in waves. "Anyway, that's when the Marshals showed up. We were just deciding what to do when we were attacked."

She pointed towards the criminals. "They all came out of nowhere and tried to kill us—"

"We weren't try—" One of the men shouted and went to stand.

Shauna stepped in front of him, and said, "Stay down or I shoot."

McGee looked back to Angel. She said, "We tried to fight them off behind the cars, but we got pushed back into the barn. Me, Matt, and the female Marshal made it, but the Masterson panicked. The other Marshal tried to drag him, but then he got hit in the chest.

"I had to…. Matt told me to hold his partner back and he just ran out there." Another deep breath. "The witness was already dead, but Matt dragged the Marshal inside and went to go back for the witness. I tried to make him stop, but he just went all double o' seven and…." She sighed and looked over to Shauna who was staring at her in shock. Angel cleared her throat. "He almost made it in the door when he got razed. The idiot just didn't give up."

**End Flashback**

* * *

><p>"Boss! Boss, I've got it!" Matt shouted in the late night quiet, making McGee jump. He was staring at his computer in amazement and gesturing for McGee and Ziva to come downstairs. They quickly went down and gathered around Matt's desk.<p>

"What is it?" McGee asked, heart thrumming.

"He's British!" Matt said, excitedly. He paused for effect, but when nobody said anything, he sighed and pushed play on the audio.

McGee listened. "I don't hear it. He sounds American."

"Well, clearly it's a fake, but you can hear it in the way he phrases his sentences. And listen to this," he said selecting a different section. "You hear how he slipped up and said 'caun't' instead of 'can't'? most people would probably just see it as him just jumbling his words up. Also," a different section, "see how he has some trouble pronouncing the 't's' at the end of words. That could be a Londoner, but I might be wrong."

Ziva still wasn't convinced. "That is not very damning evidence."

Matt huffed, becoming more expressive than usual. "Boss," he turned to McGee. "I was trained in identifying country of origin based on accents in the Agency. I knew there was something off from the start; it's just been a while since I've done this. But I know what I'm talking about." He continued to stare desperately at McGee. "Don't you trust me?"

McGee swallowed uncomfortably. Initially, when Matt was assigned to the team, McGee had had a bit of trouble seeing beyond his past in the C.I.A., but Tony had insisted on giving him a chance. And, of course, Tony was right. Matt was quite the example of why someone should never be held to what they used to be.

He sighed. "Of course I trust you. But how exactly does this help?"

"Well," Matt thought only for a second. "Has anybody ran his face through Interpol?"

After a moment's silence McGee ran back to his desk and Maxine hung up her phone and started dialing again. "Johnathan, thank God. Got a question for you." She paused. "Come on, man. This is important. Just go and stand in the corner."

McGee pulled up the Interpol database and had loaded Dave's picture into it within seconds.

"Maxine, put it on speaker," said Matt.

"—_tried the FBI, DMV—"_

"What about Interpol?" Maxine asked. "Anything international?"

"Well, um, no, but I was gonna try that next. I'm still not even finished with all the American databases. Why?"

"He's from Britain, John," said Matt. "Did you check passports coming in near D.C.?"

"_Yes, but I've only been able to go back five years. Nothing helpful."_

"Thanks, Johnathan." Maxine hung up.

Ziva stepped around McGee's desk to stand by his side. "Do you have it?" she asked, watching as the photographs flashed past, looking for a match.

McGee clenched his jaw. "There's a lot to go through. Can you narrow it down anymore, Matt?"

"I don't know. He's—he's probably been here a while. He has the vernacular down pat. He might have come here when he was younger. How old would you say he is?"

"Thirty, thirty-five?" Maxine said.

"Closer to thirty-five, I believe," said Ziva, leaning closer to the screen.

"Okay, so try 2000 through 2010," Matt suggested.

Ziva shook her head. "'95 is better. We do not want to narrow it down too much, but you are right; he uses American words so easily. He came here as a child."

McGee narrowed the specifications, and then sat back. "It could still take a while." McGee looked up at Ziva. "You should tell Sarah and John to go home. We can't do anything more tonight."

She nodded, and stepped away, pulling her phone from her pocket.

McGee glanced over to Matt and Maxine. Matt placed his hand on Maxine's shoulder and squeezed in a comforting gesture and muttered something quietly. "You guys should probably get out of here too," McGee said.

Matt turned and gave him a hard look. "Have you even been home since this started, Boss?"

McGee sighed and ran a hand across his eyes. "Just do what I say, Jericho."

Matt looked like he would argue, but then he gave it up as a lost cause.

McGee leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He listened as Matt gathered his things, and put on his jacket. He and Maxine left together.

Minutes later, a softer set of footsteps came to stand beside McGee again. Ziva's soft hand gently touched the side of his face and he opened his eyes. she gazed down at him steadily. "Bobby is gone, but he left the bed inflated."

He closed his eyes again when she brushed his cheek with her thumb. "Even you need to sleep sometime."

McGee took a deep breath, but still he couldn't let go of the fear. "I just want them back," he said, much more sadly than he'd meant to.

"I know. Come on. You can send the search to Bobby's computer." He did so and she gently pulled him to his feet and led him to the stairs. McGee wrapped an arm around her waist as they descended.

"Where is Natanael?" he asked.

"He is at a friend's house."

"So it's just you and me, huh?"

Ziva smiled. "Yes."

**AN: I am so so sorry for waiting so long to update. Just needed a break I guess. But if anybody has any questions or forgot something and need clarification, just ask. I'll be happy to help. The next chapter is the big one, the beginning of the end. Thanks for being patient with me.**


	10. It's Only Life

**That Empty Feeling of Being Full**

**Chapter Ten**

**It's Only Life**

**AN: Just letting you know that the hiatus still stands, but I had already finished this chapter, so I thought I'd just put it up. It might not be too long, but it could still take a while for me to update again. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.**

It's Only Life—Kate Voegele

_If I could reach up and hold a star_  
><em>for every time you made me smile<em>  
><em>I would have the whole night sky<em>  
><em>in the palm of my hand<em>

* * *

><p>It wasn't supposed to end this way.<p>

McGee should've busted down the door, gun in hand, and saved the day like he always does.

He should have saved them both.

It's only life, she thought, laying unmoving on the grimy floor. Contrary to popular belief, it really is easy to take a life. In this case, constant pressure on the trachea for about thirty seconds, assuming the victim wasn't strong enough to throw you off, or if they were too hurt.

She wouldn't open her eyes. Because opening her eyes would force her to face the reality.

The plan hadn't worked.

Her partner was dead.

It was one hell of a stupid, half-assed plan. Dangerous, risky, unlikely to work and generally just stupid.

It was Angel's idea.

Sure, Shauna had been considering it herself (and she had to admit, it was the only real option that they had) but it was still stupid. Mainly because it involved possibly leaving Angel here, alone, to fend for herself against a soon-to-be-enraged killer psychopath.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"Alright, let's go through this again," Angel said, propped up against the wall. "You have the knife. We wait for him to come through the door, you stab him. If you think you can overpower him, then do it, but if not, I want you to run as fast as you can. Try to get to his car, but if you can't, then just hightail it to civilization."

She looked hard at Shauna. "If that happens, you have to leave me here, Shauna, I mean it. Our only chance is if you make it back."

Shauna bit back what she really wanted to say and just nodded. She knew what Angel was trying to do. She would risk losing her life to save Shauna. And what could Shauna do about it but let it happen?

Angel very well couldn't take her place. She couldn't even stand up by herself; her leg was swollen, probably infected, and it hurt her to breathe too deeply. She was, however, currently in the right frame of mind, the concussion having mostly gone away. But there was no way that she could get away on her own.

It was morning again. Monday morning. 'Dave' hadn't come back the night before. Thank God. They had both slept throughout the night, albeit, not very peacefully. Angel looked at her weirdly every once in a while, as if she really did remember the kiss. Shauna almost smiled. She wasn't embarrassed, and Angel obviously knew it was just to calm her down, but it would be tough to explain to everyone when they got out of here.

If they got out of here, that was.

Angel rolled her head from side to side and then leaned her head back against the wall. "Hey, do you remember that time when we crashed the car?"

Shauna thought back. "Vaguely. Why?" she asked raising her eyebrows.

She shrugged. "No reason. Just remembering."

Shauna looked at her sadly. 'Just remembering'being code for 'thinking back in case I die.'

Shauna sighed. "Yeah, I remember you were driving."

Angel smiled good-naturedly. "Doesn't mean it was my fault."

"Whatever. We almost died."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Di—" Shauna stopped herself, realizing what they were doing. Angel just laughed.

Shauna sighed, but then laughed when she remembered more. "I've never heard Matt cuss like that."

"The man sure as hell does not like to be woken up because I choose not to kill innocent little squirrels."

"Yeah, he was pretty mad, wasn't he?"

"Well, at least it was a viable emotion," Angel said, rolling her eyes. "He needs to learn how to open up. Six years and I've only seen him smile a handful of times."

Shauna thought a moment before she spoke again. "So what was he like when you first met him?"

"Where do I start." She scoffed and started ticking off her fingers. "Emotionally distant, almost never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, never found _anything_ I said funny. I really don't know what those people over a Langley did to him, but I'm glad he finally decided to get out. Though come to think of it, he never actually said what happened to make him quit."

"Must have been bad," Shauna speculated.

Angel shrugged again. "Well I'm sure McGee knows. I mean, Tony was team leader at the time, but I'm sure the Boss would have found out somehow."

Shauna was now intrigued. "Now, you've told me about Tony before, and I've met him a couple of times, but what about Gibbs? He's supposed to have been even better than McGee. Is that even possible?"

Angel smiled, even as her eyes drooped sadly. "Well, you're right on that. McGee is a very close second, but Gibbs was the best. I was the Probie on his team for two years before he died."

Shauna settled in for the story. She always enjoyed listening to Angel talk.

"Tony didn't like me very much. He kind of saw me as Ziva's replacement—he was in love with her, you know. And he got kind of offended when I stole the girl right from under his nose on occasion." She giggled. "I even took Abby out once. Kind of funny when you consider the end result."

Shauna laughed.

"But Gibbs," Angel said with awe. "He was amazing. Best boss I'd ever had—not including McGee, mind you. But he was good. It was like he was psychic, and I'm not so sure he wasn't; you think McGee knows everything, but he learned that from Gibbs. Our team had the highest case closed rate in NCIS history, and that is saying something, considering out current rate," she indicated Shauna and herself. "But, yeah. He always knew who was guilty just by looking at them, and he was even better than Matt at making them confess.

"And even in his mid-fifties, he was still quicker than any of us. You could always count on him to be right around the corner when you were chasing a suspect and to take him down with his bare hands. And you should have seen him with his sniper rifle. Best I've ever seen. Twelve hundred feet. And-" she suddenly looked up at the open window.

Shauna heard it too. Time to put their plan into action.

* * *

><p>A loud beeping woke McGee from his slumber.<p>

He slowly opened his eyes, and smiled when he noticed the unfamiliar weight of Ziva's head on his chest. Her hair was frizzy and probably hadn't been really brushed well in the past couple of days, but he liked it. It reminded him of how she used to wear it when he'd first met her. All tangled and wild and beautiful.

He brushed it tenderly away from her face to wake her up, smiling as he did so. She opened her big brown eyes and looked into his, smiling as well, but that quickly turned to a frown. Her eyes became more alert as they shot to the computer in the main lab. "How long has that been going off?" she asked.

McGee followed her gaze, and within seconds, they had jumped up, fought with the too-slow motion-sensing door, and skidded to a halt in front of the computer terminal.

'Dave,' or in other words, William Frankland's face was flashing rapidly on the screen. McGee quickly stopped the alarm and brought up the records, and read aloud. "Born in London in 1988 to Tara and Thomas Frankland. Father died when William was fifteen and his mother and him moved back to Virginia to stay with a grandmother by the name of Jennette Harper." McGee scrolled down and brought up another document. "Currently lives in D.C. Looks like he moved back in with his mother who was dying—or did die of liver cancer."

"Well that would explain why the sudden outburst of killing," Ziva said. "It doesn't look like he's moved since."

McGee ran back to Bobby's office to grab their shoes and jackets. "Print that out," he called, pulling on his socks and boots. He came out minutes later and placed Ziva's leather slip-ons in front of her feet and her jacket over her shoulders. "I'll go get the car started. Meet me out front."

Ziva just nodded, clicking the mouse fervently and blindly attempting to put her shoes on with just her feet.

McGee drove faster than he probably should have for an interview. And it wasn't made any better by the fact that he had no clue as to what to say when they arrived.

"Do you think that maybe we should just follow him?" he asked Ziva uncertainly.

She looked just as unsure as he did. "Well," she checked her watch. "It is about seven thirty in the morning, so if he has a job he should be heading out." She shrugged. "We can't very well go up and ask him where he keeps his victims." She looked back at the road and pointed quickly. "Left up here."

McGee skidded slightly, trying to comply. He slowed down as he made his way down the street. "Does he have a place of employment in his records?" he asked.

Ziva shuffled through the papers. "No…. Wait, yes! Looks like he works security for a law firm in Anacostia. Has for the past six months."

McGee nodded. "You could ask Johnathan and Matt to scope out the place; Frankland's never seen them before. We need to stay here and check out his place."

"Right," she said, and made the calls.

McGee found the correct address and stopped a few houses down. It was pretty run down. The remnants of a garden surrounded by a short stone fence made itself known in the side yard; probably his mother's. There was a rusty car parked partially hidden in the back yard by weeds, though the rest was mowed meticulously.

It wasn't a particularly nice neighborhood, either. McGee could hear a boom box going down the street even so early in the morning. A few yards were littered with toys and old appliances.

"They are on their way." Ziva put down her phone and looked at the house. "His car is still here, so he hasn't left yet." The car was a dark green older model GMC Yukon.

McGee took a look at the license plate. "AKL539." He typed it into his phone. "Well no wonder we couldn't find it. It's in his mother's name. He might not even have a license." he searched again on his phone. No results.

McGee and Ziva lulled into a silence. There wasn't much they could do now but wait.

After nearly twenty minutes, Ziva's phone rang, causing both occupants of the car to flinch. She answered it quickly. "David."

McGee could hear Matt's voice speaking slowly and calmly on the line, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Ziva's face slowly became more worried as she listened, and then she hung up without saying a word. She looked to McGee. "Matt says he called in sick yesterday. Said he would be out for a couple of days."

McGee looked back to the house. "So d'you think he's in there? He might have a different car?"

Ziva shook her head as if to say, 'I don't know.'

McGee reached for his door handle and got out of the car. "Come on. He might not be hiding them in there, but I'll make him talk. I don't care what I have to do."

He heard Ziva's door snap shut, and she was behind him in an instant, pulling at his arm. "Tim, you cannot go barging in there. If you scare him, he might never tell you where they are." He didn't stop, so she jumped in front of him, and pushed her hand into his chest. "The best thing we can do right now is wait for him to leave and then follow him. He will lead us straight to them."

McGee shook his head. "He's hurt my girls, Ziva," he growled. "He's had them for two days. I know what happens during that time." He tried to push past her, but Ziva blocked his way.

"I know it hurts, Tim. But you have to listen to me. You cannot strong-hand this."

"It's strong-arm Ziva, and yes I can." He easily swept her out of the way with his arm and marched up to the house. He turned back to Ziva from the porch and motioned for her to go around back. She huffed indignantly, but did what she was told. He would apologize later.

McGee knocked on the door without saying anything. It would be better for McGee if Frandland didn't know they were cops. There was no answer. McGee knocked again.

"Hello," he called out. He thought quickly. "Electric company."

Still nothing. He walked over to the widow next to the door and peered in. The house was clean enough, save for a TV dinner plate and a metal fork sitting on the coffee table and a few books on one of the chairs. McGee tried the door. Locked.

He could see into the kitchen. Plates were stacked high in the sink and the trash can was full. A shadow suddenly crossed the window on the back door and McGee's heart jumped for a second before he recognized Ziva. She leant down with something in her hands and moments later the door swung open.

She quickly made her way to the front door and opened it for him. "He is not here. The bedroom is empty, and the bed is slept in. He must have left in another vehicle before we got here."

McGee seethed. He's probably with Angel and Shauna right now. "Damn it," he muttered as he stepped inside the house.

He and Ziva made their was through the house. The bed was indeed slept in, the thick blanket kicked to the floor. McGee scanned the room with his eyes for anything worth looking at. He stopped at a pair of tennis shoes caked with mud. He put on some gloves and picked one up. "Ziva!" he called.

He pulled out a plastic evidence bag from a pocket and scratched some dirt into it with his switchblade.

"Yes?" she came into the room.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, putting the shoe back where he found it.

She shook her head. "It does not appear that he has cleaned up for a few weeks, but other than that, nothing important. What about you?"

McGee held up the evidence bag. "We need to get this back to Bobby, but we need someone to keep this house under surveillance so we can follow him when he comes back."

Ziva nodded and pulled out her phone as they made their way out the back door.

* * *

><p>Shauna's heart thrummed as they listened to the car turn off and the door slam. He sounded angry.<p>

Angel sat where she was on the floor, unable to do anything but watch. Shauna stood, back against the wall, right where the door would open to, knife in hand.

They both jumped when they heard the familiar sound of a door in the distance, echoing off the large space they were in. Shauna tensed, preparing for what she was about to do. It had never been easy for her to take a life, but with him, with 'Dave', she knew it would be. He had hurt Angel. It was fairly simple after that.

The sound of footsteps got louder and closer and Shauna readied herself. She looked over at Angel. "I love you, partner."

Angel smiled and nodded. "Love you too."

Seconds left. He was almost to the door. Shauna plastered herself to the wall and raised the hand with the knife. 'Dave' threw open the door and barged in, not checking his surroundings. Better for them then.

Shauna quickly stabbed the knife into his chest with all the force she had. 'Dave' yelled in anguish and fell to his knees. Shauna tried to pull the knife back out to stab him again, but he grabbed a hold of her wrist and squeezed, looking at her with fire in his eyes.

Shauna acted fast. She drove her knee upward into his nose, and grabbed his head from behind, shoving it hard into the ground.

She stood back up and stared for a moment at what she had done. 'Dave' lay unmoving on the ground, blood pooling in front of his face. I can't believe that worked, she thought.

"Shauna!" Angel's voice broke through. She looked at her. "Come on. Help me up." She said, holding out a hand.

Shauna ran over, pulled Angel's arm around her shoulders. "God you're heavier than I remember."

"Ha ha," Angel said sarcastically, but with a hint of a smile on her face. She groaned when she tried to put weight on her left leg. "Let's just go."

They avoided 'Dave's' prone body on the floor and made their way through the door, stopping for a moment to take it all in. The only illumination came from an extra wide door about fifty yards from them at the other end of the building.

They avoided 'Dave's' prone body on the floor as they made their way through the door, and stopped for a moment to take it in. The only light came in from the extra wide door on the other end of the building, about fifty yards away, illuminating two long rows of what looked like horse stalls.

Angel laughed mirthlessly. "I had a feeling it was a barn."

"Come on," Shauna said, helping Angel to hop out of the building, and forcing herself to ignore the way that Angel whimpered every time she was jostled too much. And because of that she wasn't prepared for Angel to cry out and go nearly limp in her arms. "Angel! What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said with barely a whisper. She pushed herself up with her left leg, but it wasn't as strong as before. "Let's go. We have to get out of here."

"But-"

"No time!"

So Shauna continued on, half-dragging Angel across the dirty dust-ridden floor, past the horse stalls and towards the open door. They had nearly made it when they heard a soft groan from behind them.

Shauna's heart skipped a couple of beats as she looked back to see 'Dave's' arm reaching up to rub his forehead, and she tried to go faster. The sunshine hit their faces, just as they heard him shout.

"Oi! Fucking bitch! You're gonna re-regret that!" Shauna heard him crashing about as he tried to get back up.

"Come on," Shauna cried, and made her way to the red pick up, parked over to the right. They were surrounded completely by a forest; as out of the way of civilization as possible. She could see the trees rise into a tall hill not far off in the distance, the sunlight shining brightly on the rock outcroppings on the top.

They hadn't yet reached the truck when the sound of one of the barn doors slammed into the outside wall, accompanied by the heaving bull-like breaths of 'Dave' as he stopped to search for them. Shauna chanced another glance back. He was weaving dangerously as he locked onto their position. She hadn't hit him as hard as she would have liked.

Angel pushed off from Shauna and fell to the ground. "Go! Run!"

Shauna didn't have time to argue with her for 'Dave' was bearing down on them. I have to keep him away from Angel, she thought, and took off at a dead run, angling away from her partner. She looked back and, by some miracle, he was following her.

The adrenaline was surely the only thing keeping her moving, for she hadn't eaten in days, yet, 'Dave,' even with a knife wound in his chest, was having no problem keeping up. They ran through the trees, the fresh dead leaves that littered the ground making it impossible to be silent.

She glanced back again, and sure enough, 'Dave' was gaining on her. He looked angrier than she had ever seen anyone look, the kind of anger one could only have for the person that had just tried to kill them. He had the knife in his hand, and it, as well as the far side of his chest, was covered in blood. It appeared she hadn't hit anything too vital, seeing as he was still breathing.

She tried not to imagine what it would feel like to have that knife cut through her flesh, it wouldn't do her any good. It was as she was about to put on another burst of speed, when she felt a hand grab the back of her shirt.

Her feet left the ground for an instant as she was pulled backward and thrown to the ground. 'Dave' was on top of her in an instant, sitting on her legs and pinning her arms to her sides.

They stayed still for a moment; the only sound from either one of them was in the form of heavy breathing, as they looked into each other's eyes. The feeling of betrayal came back to Shauna full force as she looked at the face that had almost convinced her that he was something other than a cold, heartless killer. The face now was red from running and boiling with hatred, the pupils of the eyes dilated with fury.

"What now?" Shauna asked, barely a whisper. She didn't struggle, there was no point. She knew she was about to die. She wasn't scared anymore.

"Oh, I expect you already know the answer to that," and he quickly raised his right arm and, before she could stop him, stabbed her in the side. She screamed as the white hot pain exploded and her vision went gray for a few seconds. Then he released the knife, leaving it sticking out of her, and placed the large hand around her throat, the other still holding down her other arm.

He was strong. She attempted to pull him off her throat with her free hand, the other digging in the dirt, but it was no use. It hurt so badly, the pressure crushing the life out of her and pushing the back of her head down into the ground. Her mouth gaped uselessly as her fingers started to lose feeling, losing grip and slipping off his hand.

The whole forest seemed to go silent in that moment. The birds that had made themselves heard that morning stopped chirping, the wind stopped blowing. Shauna's gaze moved away from 'Dave' into the trees over her head and she noticed the sun shining through the leaves. She could honestly say that it was the most beautiful color she had ever seen.

And in the silence, only one thing broke through. It was Angel; screaming her name.


	11. Fallen

**Brief summarization of characters: **

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

That Empty Feeling of Being Full

Chapter Eleven

Fallen  
>(Fallen—30 Seconds to Mars)<p>

_Whenever I cried, he would always make me feel like he would change the world if he could so it couldn't hurt me anymore. But now I'm crying and he's not here._

* * *

><p>The ground was rough. It tore at Angel's clothes and skin as she continued to drag herself along with both arms, but only one leg. The other one didn't move, just lugged along behind her, limp and full of pain.<p>

She stopped long enough to glance back at the barn. She'd made it pretty far, but would it be enough to keep her hidden?

It was late afternoon and darkness would surely fall soon, but it couldn't fall soon enough. Then she wouldn't have to keep looking back.

The doors still hung wide open, the evening light glittering on the dust swirling out the doors.

* * *

><p>"<em>Go! Run!" Angel shouted to her partner. 'Dave,' blood soaking his shirt from the knife wound in his chest, was stumbling toward them. <em>

_Shauna gave her one last look before sprinting away into the forest. _

'_Dave' didn't spare Angel even a glance before going after Shauna. His eyes shone with fury as adrenaline kicked in, giving him the strength to chase after her. _

"_What—what are you doing? I'm right here!" she called after him, but it was useless. She looked around. What could she do? Even if she could find a weapon, she had no chance of getting to them._

* * *

><p>She turned forward again, face looking at the ground. She tried to bite back the tears as she began to drag herself forward again.<p>

She cried out as she ran across a stray twig with her bad leg. She slowly twisted around to look at the wound. While it was at least reasonably clean in the barn, now it was covered in dirt and mixed with the oozing blood, forming a red, sticky mud. If she'd had anything in her stomach at the moment, it might have made her sick.

* * *

><p><em>Please let her get away, she prayed. But she knew it was hopeless. Shauna's scream pierced the air, and then everything became still.<em>

"_No!" she yelled, her chest catching, knocking the feeble amount air from her lungs. "Shauna! Don't hurt her!" she rasped, trying not to cough._

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening. McGee, we need you now. "Please! Shauna!" _

_No other sound came. "Shauna!" The call reverberated through the forest, sounding hollow in the silence._

"_Shauna!"_

* * *

><p>Angel kept going.<p>

The sky began to darken above her, but she barely noticed. The only sounds among the trees were her feeble attempts to keep moving. She pulled herself over an exposed root into a small depression in the ground next to a tree trunk. Just big enough for her to curl up in and get out of the chilly breeze.

She'd never felt so helpless. All she could do now was lay there and hope not to be found. Was she going to die as well? The odds were against her. Either 'Dave' came back for her and finished the job—hypothermia or dehydration were both better options at this point—or maybe she'd get blood poisoning from the infection in her leg.

* * *

><p><em>Not very long after they'd disappeared into the trees, 'Dave' came stumbling out, one hand wrapped around the ankle of a long leg. This can't be happening. <em>

_Angel screamed. Profanities of all sorts flew out of her mouth as she stared at Shauna's body being drug along the ground. _

'_Dave' came closer and deposited Shauna next to Angel like a rag doll. Angel tried to wrap her arms around Shauna's body, but 'Dave' kicked her hard in the side, leaving her gasping for air. She looked up at him as he reached into the back of his truck for a tarp, wrapping her hand around Shauna's wrist. There was no way she'd be able to fight him off. _

"_Please," she said desperately, trying to push away the tarp as he laid it over her. But he just kicked her again. He picked Shauna up. _

"_No!" she screamed, choking from the lump in her throat. "Please! Don't!" reaching up, ignoring the pain in her side. _

_She continued to beg even as he drove away._

* * *

><p>Matt sat silently in the driver's seat of the car, waiting for the light to turn green. His fingers clenched tightly to the steering wheel as he hit the accelerator.<p>

Johnathan sat next to him, seemingly too afraid to move a muscle, lest Matt kill him with a flick of his wrist. Matt did nothing to alleviate the young agent's fears. He had more important things on his mind.

Shauna and Angel had already been missing for two days. Based on the evidence, all the other women had only made it three. Time was running out, and yet, still, they were no closer to finding them.

It wasn't until Matt almost crashed into a public transit bus, that Johnathan found the courage to ask, "Are you alright."

Matt took a second to glare at him, but then just turned his eyes back to the road and kept driving.

"Look, I'm sorry about all this—"

"Why are you sorry?"

"I should have been paying more attention. Shauna—her cam—"

"Did it seem out of the ordinary?"

"No. I didn't see it was him until it was too late. I was talking to Angel. I got distracted."

"You mean Angel distracted you?"

Johnathan sighed. "She'd fallen asleep. I—"

"So it's her fault?"

"What? No! She—"

"Was it Shauna's fault for not giving the signal?"

"No, it—"

"Or McGee's fault for leaving you to man the base on your own?"

"Of course not!"

"So it's your fault for trying to give Angel a hand?"

"No—it's…. I…"

"It's nobody's fault. No one's except Frankland's. He outsmarted us all."

The car went silent again for a few minutes; then, "This doesn't happen a lot does it?"

"What do you mean? Kidnappings?"

"Well, agents getting taken. Not knowing where they are. Not knowing if they're even alive?"

"Not all the time, but it does happen."

Johnathan gave an exasperated sigh. "It's just… I know I've been trained for situations like this in FLETC, but it always just seemed so unlikely. And already in my first week—"

Matt's phone pierced the air.

'Ziva David', said the id. Matt answered it quickly. "Jericho."

"Matt," Ziva said quietly, as if trying not to be heard. "Metro found another body."

Matt's heart suddenly stopped. No. No. Please no. "Who—" he quickly pulled the car over. "Do we know who it is?"

Ziva paused for a second. "No. Metro just called to give us the heads up because we're the primary agency on the case. They did not know anything either." She gave him the location. Rock Creek Park again. "McGee and I are on the way."

"We'll be there." He hung up the phone and turned to Johnathan. He had a frightened look on his face. "There's another body."

Johnathan paled visibly and clenched his jaw. He nodded without saying anything and faced forward as Matt pulled back out onto the road.

* * *

><p>Tim flashed his badge at the officer who immediately allowed them to drive through the cordoned road.<p>

Metro cars and crime scene vehicles lined both sides of the road. McGee pulled up near the crime scene tape and he and Ziva got out. A Metro detective he had worked with before came up to them just as they passed under the tape. "Mike," Tim said, "Who is it?"

Mike Conrad held up his hand to keep McGee from going forward. "I'm sorry. She's one of yours. I've never met her before but I looked her up. Shauna St. Clair."

McGee didn't move for a minute. He felt like he'd just been punched in the gut.

Why?

"I'm sorry, McGee." Mike put his hand down and stepped aside.

He walked the distance slowly, barely aware that Ziva was following him closely. There on the ground, facing away from him, was Shauna. It almost didn't seem real. He hoped it was just a nightmare. She was curled inwards, her dark hair lain out carefully behind her, her clothes stained and ripped.

Why?

He walked to the other side. Her face. Her eyes were closed, peacefully. But that didn't ignore the dark, hand-shaped bruises on her neck or the bluish tint to her lips. There was a small bloodstain near the bottom of her blue shirt. The signature.

Why?

A screech of tires sounded on the road, followed by two slamming doors.

"No!" Matt's voice.

Tim looked up and saw Matt start to run, only to be stopped by two uniformed officers. Matt struggled against them, eyes only for Shauna. Tim stepped forward, angry. "Let him go!"

The officers jumped at the command and released Matt, who, followed by an anxious-looking Johnathan, jogged up to the scene.

Ziva took Johnathan by the arm to keep him back as Matt made his way to McGee's side.

Tim watched him closely. His fists clenched at his sides and his breathing came heavier. Tim could see the fire begin to erupt in him as he looked at Shauna's lifeless body.

He lightly placed a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Not the time, Jericho." Matt nodded. He knew exactly what Tim meant. They still had to find Angel.

Matt took a heavy breath, his chest jerking as if he were crying, yet nothing showed on his face. Tim was in uncharted waters here. He was so used to Matt bottling up his emotions; he'd never even shown anger. And even such a small show of emotion bewildered Tim.

So he did what came easy to him.

"Alright, Jericho, bag and tag and sketch the scene. Johnathan," Tim looked to Ziva, who nodded her consent, "I need you to canvas the surrounding area. Footprints, tire marks, I want it all. Ziva, if you don't mind, could you interview that woman who found Shauna? Please. I'll assist Jimmy when he gets here.

As soon as Tim finished, Matt ran back to his vehicle to get the supplies. He could have sworn he'd seen water glistening on his face. Ziva and Johnathan also disappeared for moment, leaving Tim alone. He took a deep breath and looked into Shauna's face, praying for all he could hope for that she would just open her eyes.

She couldn't be dead. She'd only been on his team for a year, and yet, it was completely devastating to think that never again would he see her smile, or hear her berate Angel for being so insufferable, or tell Matt that it was okay to open up every once in a while. She'd never wait to leave the office at night after he did—but give up after ten o'clock—silently insisting that he needed to sleep just as much as everyone else.

And Angel. She was still out there. Trapped somewhere, now alone, and likely looking at the same fate. A cold chill made its way up his spine. He didn't know what to do.

She deserved better.

They both did.

* * *

><p>McGee stood, quietly waiting in the doorway to Autopsy, as he watched Jimmy do a preliminary examination of Shauna's body. As usual, he kept up a running commentary of his findings meant for a digital recorder currently sitting on a tray next to him. He knew that Tim was there, but had been asked to act as normal.<p>

He was very professional, but every once in a while, his voice would catch. Still, he kept going. Resilient. "Victim appears dehydrated, malnourished. Bruises, partially healed, mark the neck, the left side around the ninth and tenth ribs, as well as the back of the skull. There is a small contusion on the left side of the head, behind the temple, also partially healed. Perimortem injuries include what appears to be a fracture to the collar bone and severe trauma to the larynx. A large gash, likely a… stab wound, is found just under the ninth rib. No signs of healing. There seems to be a mixture of dirt underneath the fingernails. Postmortem injury, two intersecting incisions directly below navel, in the shape of a cross, made approximately one to two hours after death. Based on li-lividity, and the first signs of rigor, victim appears to have perished about seven hours ago. Roughly seven o'clock this morning."

McGee looked up from the floor when he realized Jimmy had gone quiet.

He was standing where he had been before, but now his hands rested on the edge of the autopsy table, and his head hung forward.

"Palmer?" Tim asked quietly.

Jimmy didn't move, but said. "Ducky was right, you know." Tim stepped away from the doors, finally allowing them to close. Jimmy looked up at the sound, a heartbroken look on his face. "It really doesn't get any easier. No matter how many times I have to perform autopsies on friends, it just keeps getting worse." A few tears began to fall from behind the thick glasses. "I mean, I thought Kate's was bad, but then Paula Cassidy, and Gibbs. If Ducky's had been anything other than natural causes, I don't think I…"

He looked back down at Shauna. "But her…" She was covered by nothing but a bleached white sheet, the grime on her face and body showing starkly in comparison. "She's only twenty-six. And Angel, if she—I don't—"

McGee placed a firm hand on Jimmy's shoulder and shook his head. I'm getting her back. So don't even think about it.

McGee followed Gibbs into the Autopsy suite, head down. He knew he was in trouble. Gibbs turned to face him, pointing a finger to Ducky's work desk. McGee went to sit down. He knew that look. It was Gibbs' 'I'll deal with you later' look.

He watched as Gibbs pointed again, this time stating at Jimmy. That look meant 'Go away so I can have a private word.' Gibbs had a lot of looks.

Jimmy came over to McGee, a confused look on his face. "Is Gibbs still mad at you?"

McGee nodded. "Not just me, but Tony is out on an interview at the moment. He doesn't trust me not to go and try and make up with Abby and probably just make it worse."

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. She was pretty upset."

"Well, we didn't mean to do it." McGee said, making certain that Gibbs couldn't hear him. "We didn't know it was acid. And Tony's got a pretty bad burn from it."

"But _you_ were the one that got it on Major Mass Spec."

"Accidentally," he said, head still down.

Ducky's voice rose a little in excitement as he described something interesting that he had found on the body, and Gibbs grunted his approval, but then it lowered again, and McGee could see them both looking at him.

Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder. "I feel for you. This one might take a while for him to get over."

Jimmy nodded, looking more resolute. He looked at the body, and suddenly snapped his head back up to Tim. "The dirt under her nails!" he rushed to grab an evidence vial, and came back, working to remove some of the dirt.

"What do you…? Shit. You're right."

Jimmy nodded again. He spoke quickly and excitedly, "I can't believe I didn't think of it before. The previous victims' nails were always so pristine; Frankland cleaned them meticulously."

"So…what? He didn't have time?"

"Perhaps, but I did notice some extra bloodstains on Shauna's clothing that I don't think were hers."

"You think Frankland's been injured?"

Jimmy nodded. "Maybe. It would distract him from his usual methods."

"Do you think he's realized?" Tim asked, suddenly more worried.

"I don't know, but we shouldn't waste any time if he has." He handed Tim the evidence vial and Tim sprinted from the room. "Thanks, Jimmy!"

* * *

><p>"Bobby, I—"<p>

"I know; Palmer called." He took the vial from McGee's grasp and got to work.

Tim followed him to the table were the supplies for the procedure had been compiled in a hurry. Bobby opened the sample and began to work. McGee stood at his shoulder, trying to follow what was happening, but, like with Abby, Bobby was too quick for him.

Tim almost missed it when Bobby quickly swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

Tim sighed and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "That's good work, Bobby."

He didn't say anything, but finished sucking up the top layer of silt from the liquid. He put it in a small test tube, and went to place it in the mass spectrometer.

The machine beeped and began to work. Bobby stepped back and look to McGee. "Now we wait."

* * *

><p>The sun had gone down a long time ago, but still nobody had left. Ziva sat at her desk, quietly staring at her computer screen. It was the same, not-important e-mail she'd been reading an hour ago. The Director was requesting a meeting with all Special Agents in Charge next week.<p>

Nothing that couldn't wait until _next_ _week_.

Would Angel even be alive next week?

Ziva closed the window. Was she even alive now?

They were on their last hope. Tim had called almost two hours previously with the information of the soil under Shauna's fingernails. Perhaps they would finally be able to find her.

Her entire team sat at their respective desks as well, clicking mindlessly or, like Johnathan, playing with his phone. Matt sat in front of Johnathan's desk, taking apart and reassembling constantly his Sig Sauer. He was down to a seven second reassembly.

They all jumped when Ziva's cell broke the silence. She held up her finger and tapped the screen.

"ZIver, we've got the location. Get everyone to the garage, now!" And he hung up.

Everyone shot up - Matt reassembling in an amazing four seconds- and headed for the stairs. Ziva ran after them. She could bear the thought that it might all be in vain and that Angel was already gone or dead. Tim would lose it completely, and she wasn't sure she would be able to put the pieces back together by herself.

She'd need some help.

**AN: To my readers. I haven't given up on you or this story. I'm on my way to finishing right now and will be uploading again in less than a week as soon as I get Chapter 12 typed up. I'm getting a new laptop in a few days and will no longer have to write on paper. So yay!**

**Sorry for the ridiculously long wait, and I hope you still want to read it after this chapter. **


	12. Angels

**Brief summarization of characters:**

**Ziva's team: Sarah Winchester (SFA) and Maxine Forrester became Ziva's team eight years ago when she took assignment in Paris. At the beginning of this story they got Johnathan Fitzpatrick as their new probie.**

**McGee's team: McGee became team leader three years ago when Tony and Abby left. His team includes Angel DeLuca (SFA,) Matt Jericho, and Shauna St. Clair (Probie) who has only been on the team for a year.**

That Empty Feeling of Being Full -DeathOfSanity

Chapter 12: Angels

_Angels - Jake Coco_

_Whenever I cried he would always make me feel like he would change the world if he could so it couldn't hurt me anymore. But now I'm crying and he's not here._

* * *

><p>Angel woke in a daze of darkness and pain. She gasped when the wound in her leg throbbed from the cold. She attempted to reach her hand down to touch it, but only succeeded in pulling on the fresh cuts on her stomach and arms that she had gotten from crawling along the ground. It hurt to breathe; every deep breath she tried to take resulted in a sharp pain on the right side.<p>

She looked up at the trees in the near dawn light. She was propped up on an exposed root behind a large tree, without memory of having gotten there.

She lay there, trying to keep her mind away from the inevitable. Shauna. Dead. 'Dave' had probably already found a dump site, cut the cross into her stomach, and positioned her just how he liked his victims.

And then he would come back for her.

She should have just told Shauna to run on her own from the beginning, as soon as she'd knocked 'Dave' unconscious. Maybe then she would have made it? Not that Shauna would have listened; she never did. She would have carried her if she'd had to.

A pair of headlights suddenly flashed through the treetops. A bold of fear struck through Angel's heart, and she took a breath, trying to hold back the tears.

She painfully pushed herself onto the side so that she could look around the tree she was up against, towards the barn. She appeared to have crawled about a hundred yards away from her former prison, and was hidden fairly well in the darkness. But how long would that last? 'Dave' would surely find her eventually.

The headlights continued to move silently closer from the other side of the barn as she watched. Maybe she could keep herself hidden long enough. Maybe McGee would finally find her.

Please let him find her.

The sky was getting lighter by the minute. She was running out of time. 'Dave' would find her in a heartbeat if he were to come out here now. The headlights were almost upon the barn, bringing her death with them.

But – No, wait! She could see it now. On the other side of the barn was a red tailgate, partially hidden from view. 'Dave' was already here.

McGee! He must have found her.

But...'Dave.' He was already here.

CRACK!

Dread flooded Angel's entire body as she slowly turned back over and saw him standing behind her.

He was white as a sheet and sweating profusely. He hadn't changed is clothes from before; the gray bloodstained shirt still clung to his skin, a shredded tear exposing the now infected knife wound. He looked desperate, ready to lash out at anything.

He'd never seemed more terrifying.

"Please," she tried to say, but her throat was so dry that nothing came out.

His expression did not change. He pulled her own knife from his pocket without breaking eye contact.

The car finally skidded to halt. Angel could hear four doors open and slam shut, followed by calls of "Angel!" and "Federal Agents!"

"I knew you were a cop," 'Dave' said, deathly quiet.

Angel daren't move, much less make a sound. If she kept him from strangling her for long enough, she might be found in time. She heard the barn's front door being pushed open. I'm out here! she wanted to scream.

"Lying bitch!" he said and kicked her in the injured leg. Pain exploded all the way up her body and she let out an unintentional scream.

Someone would have heard that.

Angel began to scramble, trying her best to get away. "Help! Help!" she shouted as 'Dave's' hand grabbed the back of her shirt. The front, already in tatters, tore away, but she continued trying to crawl away, her swollen right leg barely moving at all. "McGee!"

'Dave' picked her up by the middle and threw her onto her back in the dirt. He landed on top of her and placed his hands around her throat.

It hurt worse than the last time, as the previous bruises still had yet to heal.

She scratched at his hands and face with her nails, drawing blood. She wiggled and bucked in an attempt to throw him off, but nothing worked. She pulled on his hands, but he was too strong, no air could get through.

The look of rage on his face intensified as her vision grayed around the edges. At that moment, the sun broke through the horizon, lighting up the rapidly fading world around her.

Angel tried to keep fighting, but the lack of oxygen was making her head spin. Her body was beginning to weaken, when –

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Blood poured from the fresh bullet holes in 'Dave's' chest, and, gurgling, he fell on top of her.

Voices began shouting as Angel gasped for air, feeling finally finding it's way back into her body. Suddenly, Matt was there, pulling 'Dave' away. "Angel," he said, coming to kneel next to her, just as Ziva did the same thing on her other side.

Ziva held gently to her hand as she shouted for McGee.

"It's okay, Ange," Matt spoke softly, putting his hand gently to her cheek as she raggedly drew in air, his tears falling onto her face. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Ziva then stood up, letting McGee take her place. Angel grasped feebly at his shirt.

"Ambulance is on it's way, Angel," he said

"Bo-boss," Angel tried to say.

"No. Don't talk." McGee gripped her hand firmly, pulling it off his shirt and holding it against his chest.

Her voice was raspy, but she manged, "Boss, I – I'm sorry." She took in another heaving breath. "Shau-auna...dead...my fault."

"No. Shh." McGee shook his head. "It's not your fault. Just...just rest, okay? You're safe now."

* * *

><p>Angel closed her eyes, her whole frame continuing to shake. Tim raked his eyes down her body and was horrified at what he saw.<p>

The front of her shirt was ripped open, hanging on only by the sleeves. Her forearms and stomach were covered in bloody scrapes, mingling with dirt, and discoloring the once white bra. Bruises covered her neck and body in an array of different colors, her hair was matted with dirt and twigs, and, worst of all, a large gash on her right thigh, caked with dirt and blood, forming a sickening mud-like substance.

"God," Matt whispered.

"Ziva, where in the hell is that ambulance?"

"They were not far behind us." Headlights glazed across her face and she looked up. "There!" Johnathan stood just behind her. "Go tell them where we are," she said to him, and he sprinted away without a word.

The EMTs came running, mobile stretcher in hand. Angel appeared to have fallen unconscious, he didn't blame her. They quickly picked her up with the stretcher and got her back to the ambulance.

"Go on, Tim," Ziva said, pushing him toward the back doors. "I will take care of the scene."

"I need your help," said the EMT after they had started off. He handed Tim a bottle of water. "You'll need to clean those wounds on her abdomen. I'll to what I can for her leg."

Hands trembling – McGee couldn't tell if it was from happiness at finding Angel, or grief from losing Shauna – he unscrewed the bottle and began to pour the water over Angel's stomach, letting it drip drop to the floor.

He was glad she was asleep, because he was at a lost for what to say. It was partly because of Shauna that they found her at all. He couldn't do it on his own. He couldn't protect his own team.

What would Gibbs say? What would Tony say? McGee mentally shook himself. It didn't matter. He'd let his girls down. Shauna was gone, strangled to death by a psychopath, and Angel, left all alone in the woods, body broken and unable to defend herself.

But she as alive.

She was alive.

Angel gasped, hands shooting upwards and knocking the water to the floor. McGee quickly grabbed her hands and held them tight in his own. "Hey, calm down. I'm here."

"McGee?" Angel's eyes locked onto his and filled with tears. She croaked, "Did – did you –"

He put a hand on her cold forehead. "Did I what?"

"Did you find her?"

Slowly, Tim nodded. "Yeah, we've got her. Palmer's got her."

"I – I'm sorry. I should've –" she hissed as if in pain. The paramedic was still working to clean the wound.

"Sorry, sir. I have to do it."

"It's alright, Angel," Tim said, placatingly. "Just relax. _None of this_ is your fault."

A small, pathetic sob escaped her dry throat, followed by a short coughing fit, and, finally, she seemed to relax.

"Go back to sleep," he said soothingly, brushing her dirty, tangled hair back with his fingers.

* * *

><p>"Boss!"<p>

Tim looked up and saw Matt walking hurriedly through the waiting room doors. "Boss, is she okay?" He stopped in front of Tim, towering over him and blocking out the ceiling lights.

"Sit down."

He huffed at the request, but he took the seat next to Tim. "How is she?"

"They just took her to get cleaned up. Said her leg isn't as bad as it looks, but they have to get the infection under control. The nurse said he'd tell me when we could see her. How'd you get here so fast?"

"I took our car as soon as Maxine and Sarah arrived. The techs are gonna be there all night. Plenty of murders to solve."

Tim nodded and sat back. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I didn't want to shoot him," Matt said roughly.

Tim turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted to make him suffer. He killed Shauna." Matt rubbed his forehead as if he were fighting a headache. "He was going to kill Angel. He didn't deserved to be let off so easily."

McGee closed his eyes. It would be stupid of him to say that he hand't expected this. ‟No, he didn't, Matt. But that isn't what we do and you know it. You – we all just have to get over it. The past isn't something that we can change.″

‟Get over it!″ Matt said loudly, standing back up and looking down at him with derision. ‟You want me to get over it? Just like that? Like that bastard didn't just change our lives completely?″

Tim looked patiently up at him. ‟Sit.″

Matt's jaw was clenched as he stared him down. McGee pointed a finger at the vacated chair. He sat.

‟You know that's not what I mean,″ he said. ‟But being angry isn't going to help anybody. Especially not Angel.″ He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. ‟She needs us to help keep her on the ground. There's no way she's gonna get through it without our help.″ God, this whole being in charge thing was crap. He only wished he could be as angry as Matt. It would be so much easier.

Matt studied him for a moment, barely moving – probably not breathing – but then he finally sat back against the chair, slouching down and covering his eyes.

McGee's phone broke the silence. He checked the id; DiNozzo? He stood up. ‟Get some rest, Jericho.″

He answered it as he passed through the waiting room door. ‟Tony?″

‟Hey, McGee. Long time, no see. Picked up on the third ring, as usual.″

‟What?... Why are you calling?″

Tony's voice left the jovial for the more somber. ‟Ziva called. Told us what happened. We're so sorry. Please tell me you've found Angie?″

‟Umm – yeah. Yeah, we did. She's – well, she's not okay, but she's alive. Ziva called?″

‟Yeah. A few hours ago. Probably early morning for you guys. She said that you were about to go try and find Angel. But look, that's not why I called. We're coming up there.″

‟What? No! Tony, you and –‟

‟Nope. I'm having none of it, Tim. Besides, me and Abby have plenty of time to take off. And this is important. You need me. I know how tough it is trying to keep your team together after something like this.″

‟But what about Michah? She has school.″

‟It's already arranged. She's going to stay with our friend Carrie. Look, Tim, we're coming up there. She was our friend too. Besides, Abby's already packed and there's really no stopping her now. As a matter of fact, this isn't so much as the informative call as it is a warning notice. Expect a lot of hugs in your near fu – ow! Abbs!″

McGee couldn't help but chuckle quietly. ‟Alright, whatever. But only because I know you don't have the sack to tell her no.″

‟That hurt the feels, Tim. We'll be there about three your time, okay? See you soon.″

McGee actually felt relief. Maybe the weight wouldn't be entirely on his shoulders. And Tony really did know what he was talking about. If it wasn't for him, the team – then, Tony, Tim, and Angel – wouldn't have survived Gibbs' and Ducky's deaths.

Tim had talked about needing to keep it together to Matt, but in actuality, he was barely capable of not falling apart right then and there.

‟Uh, McGee?″

Tim twisted around, finally noticing Bobby standing right behind him. ‟How's she doin', Boss?″

Bobby looked so worried that Tim almost wanted to hug him. Instead, he put a hand on the young man's shoulder. ‟She's alive. The doctor said it's not so bad″

He smiled, relieved, but still, the pain did not leave his eyes. Shauna meant a lot to him. She had loved being down in the lab; and no matter how Bobby complained about her being in the way, he loved having her down there. His 'little helper' as he had taken to calling her, she always asked the most annoying, tedious questions, but he'd admired her 'tenacity in the face of so much math.'

‟But she'll be okay, right?″

Tim nodded, and watched as Bobby moved past him to go to the waiting room. He stood still for another moment in the middle of the hallway, desperately trying to cling to his sanity, before silently following.

**AN: This was a tough one, but I finally got it out. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being such a cruel writer, but I thrive on drama. Though, it becomes a little more painful having to kill a character that you created yourself. But anyway, drop me a line. I'm flat out in love with constructive criticism, and pretty much reviews in general. Thanks! **

**-DeathOfSanity**


	13. I'm So Sick

**That Empty Feeling of Being Full**

**Chapter 13: I'm So Sick**

_(I'm So Sick – Flyleaf)_

_I feel your pain  
>Because I am your pain<br>That hurt you have  
>I caused<br>I broke the heart_

* * *

><p>Angel had been awake for nearly an hour<em>, <em>but still she refused to move. She'd heard someone – it sounded like McGee – pacing silently back and forth in the room, but she didn't open her eyes. The only person she wanted to see right now was gone.

He left after a while, only to be replaced by Bobby. He didn't say anything either; just held onto her hand and sniffed a lot, not actually crying, but still, Angel had trouble staying still. Eventually he left too.

Just when she thought she was finally alone, a voice broke the silence. ‟I know you're awake.″

Secret Agent Mattie. Sneaky as a fox and always exactly where you didn't want him to be. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Maybe he'd go away.

As if. ‟I can tell by the way you're breathing.″ Still, she didn't move. ‟Plus, your eyes would be moving if you were asleep.″

‟I'm on morphine.″ Her voice was still rough. She didn't open her eyes, but continued to talk.″They don't do that in a drugged sleep, do they?″

‟Yes.″

Damn.

Angel sighed and finally looked at him. He stood, back against the wall, hands stuck in the pockets of his hoodie. ‟You're good,″ she said flatly. ‟Do they really move?″

He shrugged. ‟Beats me.″

Angel rolled her eyes and looked him up and down. He didn't make a move, but continued to study her. She stared back silently. Worry was ever present, not in his face, but in the way his fists were balled inside his pockets and in how he leaned on he wall with both shoulders, instead of just one. It was subtle, but it was there.

She knew he was evaluating her in much the same way. In the six years they'd been partners, they'd gotten to know each others habits and tells. It was important to know who you worked with, but that didn't mean she enjoyed being evaluated.

‟Stop it.″

He raised his eyebrows in mock confusion. ‟Stop what?″

‟Stop trying to analyze me.″

After a moment, he lowered his eyes and took a seat in the chair next to her bed.

‟Where's McGee?″ she asked.

‟He went to pick Tony and Abby up from the airport.″

‟What? When did that happen?″

‟Ziva called them. Abby insisted on coming up.″

Angel sighed. ‟Well, I don't suppose it'll hurt anything now.″

After another moment, Matt asked, ‟How are you doing?″

She stayed resolutely silent.

‟I don't know what you want me to say, Ange. I'm sorry you had to go through that... And I know you blame yourself, but I know it's not your fault.″

‟How do you know?″ she snapped. She knew it too, but she did not want to know it. She wanted it to be her fault. That would be easy.

‟Because I know that you did everything you could. That's just what you do.″

Angel knew that too. ‟″But it doesn't change anything.″ Water began to form in her eyes. ‟She's - she's still gone. I – I could have –‟

‟But you were hurt, Angel. What could you have done?″

‟Something!″ She didn't mean to shout, but after the first time, she couldn't seem to stop. ‟Anything! I told her to run. I told her to leave me behind! That was the plan, but when she knocked him out, I thought we'd have time. And – and...″

Matt leaned forward and put a hand on her arm.

‟He didn't stay down for long. Shauna was helping me to his truck, but then he was behind us. I made her leave me, but he took off after her and... that was it. He carried her body back to the truck and... and he left.″

‟He left you there?″

‟Yeah.″

‟And you crawled into the woods?″ His voice was low, but he didn't let anything show.

‟Yeah.″

He swallowed thickly. ‟She would have wanted you to live.″

Angel shook her head bitterly. ‟I doesn't matter what she wanted, though, does it? She's not here anymore.″

Matt didn't move for a minute. Neither looked at the other one, and the silence began to weigh heavily.

Unexpectedly, a jolt of pain shot up Angel's leg and she gasped.

Matt almost looked worried for a moment. ‟What? What's wrong?″

Angel rolled her eyes. ‟It's just a twinge, Mattie. Just push that morphine button a couple times and leave me alone. I wanna fly.″

Matt clenched his jaw like he wanted to say something else, but then he reached for the button.

The last thing Angel saw before falling into oblivion was him noiselessly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p>‟Timmy!″ Abby came running up to him, having dropped her bag at Tony's feet at the crowded entrance to the airport. She jumped up into his arms, knocking him backward into the car door.<p>

She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back. ‟I am so so sorry, McGee. How's Angel doing?″

Tony finally stumbled over, dropping the luggage to the ground.

‟She's been asleep most of last night and today. I haven't talked to her other than in the ambulance. She was delirious.″

Abby hugged him again and picked up the bags, putting them in the car.

Tony stepped up and engulfed McGee in a hug. Tim silently hugged him back, taking a deep breath for the first time in days. ‟Are _you _okay?″ Tony asked, his voice rumbling against Tim's chest.

He pulled back. ‟I will be when they are.″

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. ‟You got her back, Tim. That's still a win to me. We'll get through this. I promise.″

He nodded, not looking Tony in the eye, and went to get in the driver's seat.

Three days later, and very little had changed. Angel had been allowed to go home – Abby had volunteered to stay with her – Matt was communicating less than usual (Angel was the only exception) and Tony never left Tim's side. The only thing left to work in the case was connecting all the evidence and making sure all the victim's families knew that their daughters' killer wouldn't be hurting anyone anymore.

Already, Tim had received eight letters from grieving parents and friends of long-dead victims. He couldn't read them, so Ziva did it for him.

The funeral was today.

Sweating in the back of a large white steepled church in Arizona, they listened to the pastor - who had apparently known Shauna all her life - tell them all about her life before she went away to follow her dreams. He couldn't keep the tears from his eyes as he spoke of God's grace and love, and how she was much happier now.

Tim sat between Ziva and Tony, head down, feeling about ten inches tall. He couldn't believe he was here again. It was almost like if he were to close his eyes, he'd be back in that old, crumbling church in Pennsylvania, with his old team. It was the same arrangement. He looked at the both of them. They had the exact same stony stares and stiff backs as they did before. They'd both had a comfortingly warm hand on his leg, just like they did now.

And just like before, Tim had tears freely rolling down his cheeks.

They'd always been the strong ones.

If only it were as simple as it was back then. He didn't have to take care of anybody but himself. Tony took the brunt of it, keeping him and Angel focused, and always keeping track of what needed doing.

McGee didn't know how he did it. He'd never shown any signs of stress, he'd done nothing but take care of them – and now McGee wished he'd paid more attention. He didn't know what to do.

The church service went by excruciatingly slowly, but, finally, after the customary violin rendition of Amazing Grace, everyone stood. And now for the last thing he'd ever wanted to do. One by one, people began filing past the open casket. Shauna's family – her mother, her grandmother, and various aunts, uncles, and cousins, all with distraught faces – went past, stopping and touching and kissing.

Tim's heart sped up. He'd never been able to do this with Gibbs or Ducky. But, God. She was his. He couldn't let her down.

Ziva's warm hand slipped into his, sending an instant calming feeling through his chest. He looked at her and she smiled up at him. A little help never hurt.

And then it was their turn. Sarah, Johnathan, and Max went first, followed by Tony and Abby. McGee stepped into the isle, Ziva leading both him and Natanael forward. He glanced behind him, watching Matt help Angel to limp toward the front of the church. At the end, Bobby and Palmer followed, heads down.

Closer and closer he got, yet he felt further and further away from it all. They stopped in front of the casket. Ziva held fast to his hand, but stayed back to give him privacy.

Shauna's eyes were closed peacefully, and her lips were painted a bright pink color that she never would have worn in real life.

This would be the last time he ever saw her. He had to say something. But apologies weren't meant for the dead. Reaching into the casket, he grasped lightly a cold hand. Heart pounding in his ears, he leaned in a whispered, ‟Goodbye.″

* * *

><p>Tony, driving McGee's new car back to the same old apartment he'd lived in for over a decade, was at a loss for what to do. He'd taken leave from work, left his daughter in Hawaii, and come back to D.C. thinking that he could help, yet all he'd done since he'd gotten here was give Tim and his team space.<p>

When it came down to it, he couldn't figure out what to do. Yes, he'd led the team – his team – through two deaths, but it was McGee's team now. It was completely different, even with the same people. Tim would need to fix them, but who would fix Tim.

He parked in the familiar place, and followed a quiet Tim up the familiar stairs into the same small apartment which held so many memories of breaking in and snooping around, eating the food and making fun of his nerd gear.

There was still a computer, but from the dust on the keyboard, it seemed ill-used as of late. Tony sat on the couch, waiting for Tim to do the same, but instead, he stayed standing near the table by the door staring at the floor near Tony's feet.

‟She had to stay here once, for a few days,″ he said, not looking up. ‟Her apartment was being fumigated, and Angel refused to let her stay with her. I think she was too scared to ask Matt, so I offered.″

Tony smiled. ‟That probably scared her even more.″

He gave a small smirk. ‟I offered her the couch, but she always wound up on the floor. I finally told her just to start out there so she wouldn't have to deal with the bruises.″ He made his way to a chair, still staring at the floor. ‟She barely even spoke to me then. Angel did say I was too intimidating. Not her words. I believe she said that I had crazy eyes.″

‟You mean like how you blink really fast when you get upset?″

‟I assume so.″

‟Yeah, that is pretty scary. A little bit psycho.″

Tim rolled his eyes. ‟Thanks.″

Tony winked, showing teeth, but it faded quickly.

Tim was shaking his head, and finally dropped it into his hands. ‟I'm not good at this, Tony. I'm not a good leader. Not like you.″ He looked up at Tony. ‟I let them get taken.″

Tony narrowed his eyes. ‟Youdidn't let _anything_ happen.″ He didn't respond. ‟Look. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but you're going to. Look at me.″ He did. ‟It's not your fault.″

Tim shook his head slowly. ‟I should have done something more. They're my team. I should have kept them safe.″

‟Tim, you _know_ it goes with the job. They both knew what they were getting into.″

‟What, is that supposed to make me feel better, or something?″

Tony sighed, closing his eyes. ‟No.″

Tim continued to stare blankly at the wall. ‟It's not fair. I should have been better. I should've known better. She – she was so young.″

‟I know. They always are.″

Tim shook his head again, blinking. Tony knew how he felt. Tim knew it wasn't his fault, and the guy who was to blame was long past punishment. He felt helpless and cold.

They sat for a while. McGee just leaned back in the chair and started blankly at the ceiling, completely still.

‟Are you happy, Tim?″

Tim flinched and looked up, confused. ‟What?″

‟Are you happy?″ Tim still looked bewildered at the question. ‟You just seem so sad. And I don't mean just lately. Every time I see you or every time I talk to you.″ Tony sat forward. ‟I mean, have you seen your place recently? No food. Half of your clothes are in your car. The only thing with any meaning in your life is work.″

Still, he didn't say anything.

‟You're starting to remind me of Gibbs. And Gibbs acted like Gibbs because of what happened to his family. What happened to make _you_ like this?″ Tony could see anger beginning to bubble, but he continued anyway. ‟It's not who you are. You've always been better than Gibbs.″

‟I tried, Tony! I tried not to be that way. I almost got married! But, like everything else, I fucked it up.″

‟Yes, I know, and that sucks, but you to move on. You start over, you don't let it control your life.″

‟Yeah?″ McGee stood, walking behind Tony, toward the kitchen. Tony followed with his eyes. ‟Well, it's so easy for you to say. As long as I've known you, you've had it easy. Easy with women, easy with work, with life. You got Abby, adopted Michah.″

Tony didn't rise to the bait. ‟This isn't about me, Tim.″ He stood as well, but stayed where he was. ‟It's _your_ life. _You_ need to take it back.″

‟How?!″

‟What about Ziva?″

‟What _about _Ziva?″

‟Oh, don't try to hide it from _me, _Probie. It's obvious how you feel.″ Tony could have sworn he saw the beginnings of a blush. ‟And she already has that life. The one you've always wanted. She has a family, and they love you.″ McGee's eyes were wide, the previous argument forgotten.

Tony shook his head, a small smirk finally breaking free. ‟Don't just let that all pass you by because you're too afraid to see what's right in front of you.″

Tim didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

**AN: Thanks for reading. I love reviews. You're awesome!**

**-DeathOfSanity**


	14. The River

**That Empty Feeling of Being Full  
>Chapter Fourteen: The River<strong>

_The River – Jo Bonamassa_

We find by losing. We hold fast by letting  
>go. We become something new by<br>ceasing to be something old. This seems  
>to be close to the heart of that mystery.<br>I know no more now than I ever did  
>about the far side of death as the last<br>letting-go of all, but now I know that  
>I do not need to know, and that I do<br>not need to be afraid of not knowing.

Frederick Buechner

_~ONE MONTH LATER~_

‟Jericho, take the back,″ Tim said.

Matt nodded and ran around the house.

Tim unholstered his sig and held it down at his side. With his right hand, he banged his fist against the door. ‟Federal Agents! Open up, we have a warrant for your arrest″

Three seconds should be enough. He stepped back and put his foot to the door. He moved inside as it flew open and heard Matt doing the same thing from the other end.

He moved through the house, his weapon leading the way. He checked the dining room on the left, but as he went to enter the kitchen, the shaft of a wooden broom came around the corner, hitting square him in the jaw.

He cried out, falling back against the wall. The suspect pushed him to the floor and rushed past, escaping through the front door.

‟Matt,″ Tim called, holding his face and struggling to stand. He stumbled towards the door just as he saw Matt sprinting through it. There was a shout of ‟stop″ and then a squeal of pain. By the time Tim got his bearings and made it outside, the suspect was rolling around on the sidewalk, and clutching his bleeding nose.

McGee's eyes widened in shock. ‟What did you do?″ he asked Matt, who was towering menacingly over the suspect.

He looked up. ‟I tackled him and he failed to protect his face.

He looked to the sidewalk where the suspect was. A small bloodstain marked the ground, seemingly backing up the story. McGee breathed a sigh of relief.

‟You sonofabitch!″ the suspect yelled from the ground. It came out sounding muffled, as his bloodied hands were still covering his mouth.

He'd hate to have to explain that one to the director.

‟You're bleeding too,″ Matt said, pointing at McGee's face.

Tim placed the palm of his hand to his jawline and examined the result. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to kick the suspect in the stomach.

‟Clean him up and get him in the car.″

Back at the office, Tim exited the stairwell and headed straight for his desk, but was stopped suddenly when Ziva stepped out in front of him.

‟Hey, Tim,″ she began, ″I – Oh my god! What happened?″ she gently graced her fingers across his jaw.

‟Broomstick,″ he said (that was going to get old), pushing her hand back down. ‟I'm fine. Matt broke the guy's nose.″

Her eyes went wide. ‟What?″

‟On accident. I promise. Don't worry about it. What do you need?″

‟Angel is here.″

‟What? Where?″

‟In Director Braxton's office.″

‟She's not meant to come back for two more weeks. I have to talk to her.″

He made to leave, but Ziva placed a firm hand no his chest. ‟I wouldn't if I were you.″

‟Why not?″

‟Because you have been lucky to have never been through anything quite like this. If she wants to come back to work, then it's probably the best thing for her.″ He must have looked uncertain about it, because she continued. ‟It is the isolation that gets you. The absolute worst thing you could do is let it boil.″

‟You mean, 'let it stew?'″

‟Whatever.″

Tim sighed. Ziva knew what she was talking about. He took a deep breath. ‟Alright. I guess she can just stay on desk duty.″

Ziva nodded, dropping her hand. ‟I am sure the director would agree.″ She started for the elevator, but stopped suddenly and turned back. ‟By the way, you left your boots under my bed the other day.″

Tim looked at her in confusion for a second, but was snapped out of it when a small crash sounded from the general direction of Ziva's team's workspace. Sarah, Maxine, and Johnathan were all sitting cross-legged next to Sarah's desk. They were whispering fervently trying not to look in Tim and Ziva's direction, and attempting to hide what looked like a sound enhancer.

Ziva pointed at them threateningly for a moment before continuing towards the elevator.

Tim rolled his eyes and went to sit at his desk.

Maxine and Sarah had taken to Johnathan very well; the team cohesion was remarkable. He was just as impressed with them as he ever was with his own team.

* * *

><p>‟<em>But, Boss,″ Angel whispered, watching Shauna sitting on the floor in the bullpen, playing with a little girl, about a year old, with high black pigtails. (Tim couldn't help but smile at the resemblance to a certain forensic genius he knew.) ‟What are we supposed to do with her?″<em>

_Tim just shrugged. ‟Her aunt will be here to get her in a few hours. Just keep her occupied.″_

‟_But...″ she looked around desperately, ‟can't Bobby or – or Palmer – he has kids –‟_

_He shook his head. ‟They're busy with her mom.″_

_Angel's face scrunched up, as if in pain. ‟Yeah... yeah, alright fine. We'll watch –‟_

_She was interrupted by a loud, wailing cry. They both looked down to see Shauna, wide-eyed, pick up the little girl and try to calm her down, but to no avail. _

_She looked up at them. ‟What do I do?″_

_McGee had to fight no to laugh as Angel jumped on the baby bag and dumped it out onto the floor. ‟Okay... do you think she's hungry?″_

‟_How should I know?″_

‟_Well! What do you expect of me? I've never had to do this before!″_

_Chuckling, Tim left the bullpen, intent on heading to the lab. _

_When he got back, however, the situation had not improved. _

‟_No, Angel, you're doing it wrong. You're putting it on backwards.″ The baby was still crying as Tim saw what they were doing. The little shirt Angel was trying pull the girl's arms through was indeed backwards, and, if possible, Angel's face was even redder than the baby's._

_He looked at all the other personnel in the general vicinity. Some (including Ziva and Sarah) looked very annoyed and either had earphones or earplugs in, trying to block out the sound. Others were openly staring, with smirks on their faces, but were unwilling to intervene. _

_Angel fixed the shirt and started picking up the random objects that littered the floor. Toys, pencils, staplers, and pretty much anything that could interest a baby, were offered, but the little girl, currently sitting in Shauna's lap, just pushed everything away, saying what was unmistakably the word ‟No.″ _

_The elevator dinged, but Angel and Shauna were too busy to notice. Tim turned to see Matt step out, bags of the team's lunch in his hands. He stopped next to McGee. ‟What happened here?″ he asked _

_Tim, smiling, said, ‟Well, apparently when they said they could 'handle it,' that's not what they meant.″_

_Matt shook his head and walked over to where they were sitting. He put the food on his desk, stepped up, nudged Angel out of the way with his foot, and reached down to take the baby out of Shauna's clutches. He held her to his chest, and immediately, the baby calmed, hiccuping as she tried to stop crying. He then took the stuffed dog toy from Angel's hand and gave it to the baby, who grabbed it with a squeal and stuffed it in her mouth. _

_The whole room stilled as everyone in it stopped and stared, slack-jawed at the scene. _

_Angel was furious. ‟What in the hell was that? Did they teach you that in the CIA or something?″ _

‟_What?″ Matt was actually smiling, looking at the little girl. ‟Babies love me.″_

_The room, as one, seemed to snicker and then went back to work._

_Angel and Shauna stood, Shauna gazing in wonder. ‟Yeah. Because they can't communicate verbally either.″_

* * *

><p>‟Boss?″ Angel's voice snapped him back to reality. His eyes dropped for a second to the floor (he could almost see Shauna sitting there, covered in powdered baby formula, a scared look on her face), before he looked back at Angel.<p>

Her hair and make-up were done immaculately, and her clothing was pressed and wrinkle-free even through they seemed to fit her a little loosely. He knew that her leg had healed – she held herself perfectly steady. She was clearly attempting to give the impression that she was okay/put together/back to normal, but the uncertain look on her face gave her away.

‟Angel,″ he responded.

‟What happened to your face?″

‟Broomstick.″

She raised her eyebrows in amusement, but then she cleared her throat. ‟I've, umm... I've talked to the director... I – I just need my psych evaluation and he says I can come back for desk duty.″

Tim nodded. ‟When?″

‟Oh, umm...″ she didn't seem to have expected him to agree so easily. No wonder she didn't try to talk to him first. ‟Tomorrow. If all goes well.″

He nodded again. ‟Good. Eight o'clock sharp.″

‟Umm...alright. See you then,″ she said and walked off.

He watched her get in the elevator to go up. He sure hoped Ziva was right.

* * *

><p>‟And how does that make you feel?″<p>

‟Super awesome.″

‟Sarcasm won't help your situation, Miss De Luca.″

‟Well, _Miss Doctor Lady_, perhaps asking something other than 'and how does that make you feel?' might make me want to give you a serious answer.″

‟Look – may I call you Angel?″

‟No.″

The psychiatrist sighed. ‟I know it hurts.″

‟Do you?″

‟You lost your partner while you were incapacitated. You're blaming yourself.″

‟No, I'm really not.″

‟Well, then who _are _you blaming? Your captor?″

‟Mostly.″

‟What does that mean?″

‟I don't – I don't know. Isn't that your job?″

‟Your boss?″

After a second's pause, Angel shook her head. ‟No. It's not his fault. Too many shit circumstances just happened to fall into place.″

‟Such as?″

‟Well. What if we'd all been paying more attention that night? What if we hadn't found another body? Or what if _Frankland _ wasn't a crazy person. Maybe if Shauna hadn't been stupid enough to fall for a mark.″

‟Maybe if you all hadn't been working late every night the past week.″

‟I see you've done your research.″

‟I always do.″ She flipped a page in the case file sitting in her lap. ‟So everyone played a played a part?″

‟No. I didn't say that. No one played a part but Frankland. No one is at fault but him.″ The doctor raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‟Not what you expected to hear, I guess.″

‟Why do I feel like I'm being interrogated?″

‟That's rich, coming from you. That's what you get for working with cops.″

She smiled. ‟I suppose so. But I'm assuming that this line of questioning is uncomfortable, so I'll move on. How have the past few weeks been?″

‟Boring.″ The psychologist scratched her nose with the end of her pen, listening closely. ‟A little lonely.″

‟Have you been eating well?″

‟I'm not depressed, if that's what you're asking.″

‟I wasn't.″

Angel sighed. ‟I've been a little sick from all those meds. But I'm okay now. Probably eating better than I used to.″

‟Sleeping?″

‟More than what I'm used to. Not like I have anything else to do.″

She made a few notes. ‟What do you think it'll be like working without your partner?″

‟I see what you did there. You asked me some easy questions to get me talking, then you hit me with a big one. Who's interrogating who?″

The doctor rolled her eyes. Angel bit back a smile. Then she shrugged. ‟I assume it would be like it was before she was my partner. With a few extra sad feelings mixed in.″

‟Can you work with that?″

‟Well it's not exactly preferred, but life does indeed move on.″

‟Indeed.″ She flipped another page.

‟So.″ She looked steadily at Angel. ‟About what happened at that barn.″ _Here we go. _‟I'm told it was three days that you were there?″

‟Yes.″

‟And you were fairly bad off for most of it?″

‟Yes.″

‟I assume the dynamic between you and your partner changed. She became the protector?″

‟Yeah, sure.″

‟Whereas you are usually the one showing her the ropes and keeping her safe.″

‟Yes.″

‟Do you think that changed the end result?″

‟You mean that she died and I didn't? Possibly. Probably. But when it came down to it, she ran. She left me lying on the ground. Though, know she wanted him to follow. I think. Stupid thing to want really...″ Angel said, chewing on a nail, no longer looking at the psychologist. ‟She actually had a chance.″

‟And she gave it to you?″

She looked back up. ‟That's kind of a dumb question, don't you think, Doc? She knew he would go for her, she was the one that stabbed him in the chest. But she didn't know that he wouldn't just kill me when he was done with her. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't.″

‟Surprised?″

‟Well, it does seem like something a crazy person like him would do. I'm glad he didn't, of course.″ She swallowed. ‟Now, if he would've killed me _instead_.″

‟But he didn't.″

‟No. He didn't.″

The doctor made another note.

‟I am_ glad_ he didn't. But if it meant that she lived...I would've done anything.″

‟Perfectly understandable.″

‟Really? So you don't think that I'm depressed, or suicidal, or... a danger to myself or others.″

‟Should I be?″

‟What is it with you doctors? Always seeing the worst case scenario. That, and answering question with a question. Is that in a handbook somewhere?″

‟Actually, yes.″

‟Oh...huh...″

‟Angel,″ the doctor said, sitting up straight, ‟you seem fine. Almost a little too fine, but even if I am being played, at least you're in the presence of mind to try and play me. Believe it or not, it is completely normal to be upset after an ordeal like that.″ She marked some notes on the last page, and handed it to Angel. ‟Fit for duty. But I'd still like for you to come and see me for a while.″

‟Is it mandatory?″

‟No.″

‟Well, then this appears to be goodbye, Doc.″ They stood and shook hands.

‟See you next week.″

* * *

><p>- One week later -<p>

‟Agent McGee,″ Director Braxton called, exiting MTAC as McGee passed.

He slowed his pace, but kept walking. ‟Can't it wait, Director? I've got to see Bobby.″

‟I just want to talk. Won't take a minute.″

Tim sighed and stopped, leaning up against the railway. ‟About?″

‟How's Angel doing?″

Tim looked down into the bullpen. Angel was sitting at her desk, chin in one hand clicking pointlessly on her mouse with the other. ‟Bored, I assume. The first couple of days were a little awkward, but the team's doing better with her back. But she's already threatening to quit on me every five minutes if I don't let her back into the field soon.″

‟What's stopping you?″

‟I told her two weeks when she came back.″

‟Her therapist thinks she's ready.″

‟I don't think another week could hurt.″

‟And agent Jericho?″

Tim's eyes moved to Matt. He was staring blandly in front of him, arms and legs crossed, still as a stone. ‟Mostly normal. He won't talk to anyone, much less me. It's not affecting his work, but he's still pretty upset.″

‟What about your suspect last week?″

‟That was an accident.″

‟You're sure? The suspect didn't seem to think so.″

‟Yes. Matt wouldn't do anything like that.″

The Director studied him for a moment. ‟Okay.″

‟Anything else?″

‟What about you?″

McGee swallowed and scratched his forehead to give himself a moment. ‟Fine. It's just a lot quieter down their without Shauna. I'll be... we'll be fine.″

The Director, uncharacteristically, placed a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. ‟I know.″

Tim nodded. ‟Thanks, Director.″ He went to leave, but the Director held him back.

‟Wait a moment, McGee.″

‟Yeah?″

He presented Tim a with a file he hadn't noticed before. ‟I hate spring this on you all of a sudden, but there really is no easy way to do it.″

McGee took the file. ‟What do you mean?″

He nodded at the file. ‟Meet your new agent.″

**AN: **If you liked it, then why not review. I really have enjoyed doing this story, and thank you for sticking with me, even though it's been over a year since I began. But it's not quite over yet. As I said at the beginning, this story isn't just about loss. It is about moving on. But it's the moving on that's the hardest part.


	15. Wolves and Werewolves

**That Empty Feeling of Being Full**

**Chapter 15**

**Wolves and Werewolves**

_Wolves and Werewolves –_ the pack a.d.

_Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  
>- Albert Einstein<em>

‟Meet your new agent.″

‟New... Don't you think it's a bit soon, Director?″

‟I'm sorry McGee, but I think we've waited as long as possible. It's just been you and Jericho for a month, and Angel will still be on desk duty for a while. Agent David can't keep lending you her agents forever. And yes, I absolutely knew about that.″

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, McGee opened the file, and the Director gave commentary as he read. ‟Her name is Amy Travis. Well qualified. Second in her training class, and previous experience in local law enforcement. She looked very professional in her photograph, straight, red hair tied back neatly, a calm, determined look on her face. Could have qualified for detective if it weren't for her age. She's twenty-three now. High marks in weapons proficiency. I assure you, she comes very highly recommended.″

‟I'm sure she does,″ he said.

‟It's just a trial run for now. She'll be here tomorrow, so I suggest you go ahead and discuss it with your team.″ He turned to leave. ‟I'll expect all of you in my office nine o'clock tomorrow morning.″

Tim stared after him for a moment, still holding the open folder loosely in his hands. This was insane. If the Director thought for one moment that this was the right time to start over, then he clearly couldn't see how the team was actually faring. Trying to get them to accept a new agent this soon, and another young, innocent-looking woman at that, was probably the worst thing the Director could put on them.

He looked back down at his workspace; Angel was throwing little paper balls in Matt's direction, and he was ignoring her completely, still staring off into space. They were slowly getting back to normal, but he didn't know what this might do to them.

The Director was right of course, he was a little low on manpower. And it had to happen eventually. That empty desk couldn't stay empty for long. As usual, they started over, did all the same things all over again and again, and moved on.

Angel, however, didn't take the news so lightly.

‟What? Another one, just like that?″ Angel snapped her fingers to go with the statement. ‟Let me see that picture again.″

Matt handed over the file without a word.

‟Pretty, young, female. Exactly what this team will be missing now. 'Hey, let's just toss another one at them and hope she sticks.'″

‟Angel,″ McGee chastised. He looked around the break room. A few agents loitered around the vending machines, but they weren't paying any attention to the conversation at hand.

‟Oh, was that rude? Sorry, I must be a little off my game.″

‟Can we please just give her a chance?″

‟Chance? Sure! Why not? I suppose she deserves at least that much.″

‟Well, the Director wants us to meet her tomorrow.″

‟Are you fucking kidding me?″ she snapped the folder shut and threw it back into Matt's hands. He caught it without hesitation and opened it again. ‟He gives us a day's notice and expects us to just take her, no questions asked.″

‟What happened to giving her a chance?″

‟He couldn't give us an extra month? We haven't even completely cleaned out Shauna's desk.″

‟Angel, it's happening. There's no point in arguing.″

‟What? There is always a point in arguing.″

‟Angel, please,″ he begged. She was angry, he could tell. No matter what it had seemed, Angel had always been the closest to Shauna.

She huffed, and turned to Matt. ‟What do you think?″

‟Its not so bad,″ he replied.

‟Oh sure! He's on board.″

‟He's right, Angel. She's just another agent. She's not trying to replace anybody. She didn't even know Shauna,″ McGee said.

‟But...″ she looked at McGee and saw the pleading look on his face. ‟Fine. I guess she does deserve a chance.″

And so, the next morning, they made their way to the Director's office. Angel was still a bit angry about the short notice, but she had given up the fight. The secretary buzzed them in, and McGee let the way.

‟Ah, there you are,″ said Director Braxton, standing up from the conference table. ‟I was just telling agent Travis about the perks of the job. Come in. Come in.″

Amy Travis stood as well, coming around the table. ‟Nice to meet you all,″ she said, holding out her hand. ‟You must be Special Agent McGee?″ She shook his hand. ‟And Matt Jericho. And Angela de Luca.″ She shook their hands in turn.

Angel had reluctantly promised to play nice, so she smiled politely and said, ‟Hello.″

Amy nodded in response. She looked so young. If McGee didn't know for a fact that she was twenty-three, he would have thought she was still in high school. Her red hair was tied neatly at the base of her neck with a thin black ribbon, and she wore a blue button up shirt with a neatly pressed vest, a pair of slacks, and what were unmistakably solid black converse tennis shoes. She smiled easily as he looked at her, clearly something that she did a lot, going by the laugh lines around her mouth.

Director Braxton touched Amy on the elbow and said, ‟Why don't we all take a seat.″

They all took a place around the table, the team on one side, the Director and Amy on the other. ‟As you know, Miss Travis here is very much qualified to work with your team. However, I understand that it might be a difficult transition coming from the recent tragedy. I am hoping that you can all get past all that and work together seamlessly.″

Amy frowned in sympathy. ‟I am so sorry to hear about what happened,″ she said. ‟When I heard I almost didn't want to come, but the Director insisted.″

‟Yes,″ he said. ‟I need my people at peak performance, and I'm certain that it will all work out. Now, as for the particulars, Amy here has some previous experience as a patrol officer, but none yet with NCIS, so she will be in the position of Probationary Agent for now.″ He looked at Amy. ‟That means that you will be on probation for a year. Monthly evaluations, , and at any point, you may be placed on a new team or in a different type of duty post.″

She nodded. ‟Understood.″

‟Miss de Luca here will be on desk duty for another week, so I would expect you'd have to jump right into some field duties.″

McGee spoke up. ‟Is that all, Director?″

He looked to McGee's and his team with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. ‟Is there anything you would like to say to say, Special Agent McGee?″

McGee opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off the his phone ringing. Dispatch. ‟Sorry, Director, but we have to go.″ The team stood.

The dispatch operator gave him the information, and he hung up, looking at Amy. ‟You all set to go? We've got a case.″

Her eyes widened in excitement and she jumped up out her seat. ‟Of course. The paperwork's taken care of. I'm all yours.″

‟Good luck,″ the Director called as the door shut behind them.

McGee pointed towards the bullpen as they passed. ‟Desk, Angel.″

He heard her curse as he continued on.

‟So, where are we going?″ Amy asked as they got in the car.

‟A missing Naval petty officer has been found. Alive.″ He started the engine and immediately took off. ‟She says she's been kidnapped.″

‟Did she say by who?″

‟Don't know yet, Travis. We're going to see her at the hospital.″

She sat forward from the back seat. ‟So what do you want me to do when we get there?″

McGee saw Matt roll his eyes. She talked more than Shauna, that was for sure. And she didn't appear to be afraid of him. ‟Just watch for now.″

‟Got it, Special Agent McGee.″

‟Just call me McGee.″

‟Oh, thanks.″ She sat back. Then forward again. ‟Hey, McGee, is – ″

‟Travis,″ he said, cutting her off.

‟What?″

‟Just save it.″

‟Oh,″ she sat back. ‟Okay.″

They made it the rest of the ride in peace. When they arrived at the hospital, they were shown into a small room with the blinds on the windows shut tight. A young woman sat alone on the bed, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a set of scrubs. There was a distinct scent of seawater in the air, and her hair looked as if it had been wet rather recently.

‟Special Agent McGee, NCIS, ma'am.″ He took a seat right in front of her. The other two remained standing. ‟This is Agent Jericho and Agent Travis. What's your name?″

‟Petty Officer Charlotte Riggs.″

‟What can you tell me about what happened, Petty Officer? You said you were kidnapped?″

She nodded.

‟Do you know who kidnapped you?″

‟No,″ she said in a small voice. ‟I don't know his name.″

‟Is there anything you can tell me that would help to identify him?″

‟I, uh... I don't know.″

‟What did he look like?″

‟Um... white. Brown hair. A – uh, tattoo on his left bicep. A snake.″ McGee could hear Amy scratching away in a notebook behind him. He knew it was Amy, because Matt had a particularly keen memory. He could just hear something, and then go back to the office and write it all down practically word for word.

Petty Officer Riggs looked at Amy dazedly for second and then turned her attention back to Tim. ‟I – I don't really remember.″

Tim smiled at her. ‟That's alright. So, what happened?″

Her voice was shaking slightly. ‟Umm... I, uh, I was at a bar.″

‟By yourself,″ Amy interjected. McGee didn't remind her that she was just an observer. It would only endeavor to stress out Charlotte even more.

‟Oh, um. Yeah.″ More writing. ‟I sometimes go there to relax on my days off. I know the bartender there. But she wasn't working last night. My CO probably thought I ran off, huh?″ She laughed halfheartedly, looking back at Amy.

‟You were reported AWOL. Some M.P.s were out looking for you; they'll probably be here soon.″

‟Oh... really?″

‟Please continue.″

‟Um, anyway, I was getting ready to leave, when this really cute guy came up and started hitting on me. We were – um. He invited me back to his place, and I, uh – ‟

‟It's alright. Was this the guy that took you?″

She nodded. ‟He said he lived down by the docks.″ The shaking was back. ‟So, we were driving, and I kept asking him where, and he just kept saying 'you'll see', or 'almost there.'″

McGee nodded patiently. ‟It's okay. What happened next?″

Charlotte cleared her throat. ‟Well, we got on his boat, and we took off. He didn't tell me that there would be another guy there, but I was into it. We started kissing, but he was a little pushy, so I told him to stop. I tried to fight him off, but the second guy came in and...″

McGee took hold of her hand. ‟He raped you?″

Taking a shuttering breath, Charlotte nodded her head yes. She looked down, avoiding eye contact with all of them. McGee could hear Matt breathing less then-steadily behind him.

‟What happened ne - ‟

Amy stepped forward. ‟Could you describe the boat?″

McGee looked at Amy, to tell her not to interrupt, but then Charlotte chuckled.

‟I'm a sailor, ma'am. I think I could describe a little boat.″

Tim stood, motioning for Matt to follow him outside, while Amy got the details.

They stopped just on the other side of the door. ‟We going to find the boat?″ Matt said.

Tim shook his head, eyes on Amy. She was listening intently, writing down everything that Charlotte was saying. ‟I need you to call her CO at the Navy Yard and tell him to call off his goons. We'll be taking her to NCIS to get a statement as soon as she's out of the hospital. ″

Matt nodded, and pulled out his phone, stepping away to somewhere quiet.

McGee went back to the conference room. ‟How did you escape?″ Amy was asking.

Charlotte shrugged with a little smirk. ‟I swam. I jumped off the boat when they let me go to the bathroom. Must have about a mile – I went way farther than that in boot camp. And thank God it wasn't too cold this time of year. Anyway, I swam to shore and asked someone to call the cops.″ She spoke a lot steadier now. ‟Those men, they probably thought that I'd drowned. I didn't tell the guy I was Navy. But if they think that I'm lost at sea, they'll probably go back to the same dock. You can catch them. I can show you.″

Tim spoke, causing both women to look up. ‟You can _tell_ us. If you could give us a statement, we'll get this all taken care of.″ He looked at Amy, and she handed Charlotte her notebook. ‟We'll get these guys, don't worry.″

When they arrived back, Matt took Amy to legal to get a warrant for the boat. McGee found Angel in the bullpen sitting behind Shauna's desk, arm pushed all the way into the back of one of the drawers. ‟One hell of a mess,″ she said without looking up. She drew her hand back out clutching an old candy wrapper. ‟Trash all over this thing.″

He stopped in front of her. ‟It's still cleaner than yours.″

‟So, how'd she do?″ Angel asked, checking another drawer.

‟Well enough. Didn't exactly observe from the shadows, but she put the victim at ease.″

Angel nodded, still looking inside the desk. ‟It'll be weird, though, right? Some stranger in Shauna's seat? Using her computer. You've dealt with this before. Kate Todd? Someone new just taking their place.″

‟Yeah.″ He thought of the first time Ziva tried to sit in Kate's desk. It had felt so wrong then. ‟It's weird at first. But – well, things change.″ He looked to Ziva's current desk. He wondered where she was.

‟She's on a call-out. Dead Marine in a lake, or something.″ She got down on her knees and reached under the desk, coming up with a crumpled old post-it. ‟'Call Andrew Rickneiser.'″ She looked up at McGee with an arched eyebrow. ‟You asked Ziva on an actual date yet?″ she asked, face completely serious.

‟What? What are you talking about?″

‟What am I talking about?″ she asked dubiously. ‟I see the googly eyes you two make at each other all the time. I swear, you're like a couple of love-struck teenagers. You can't fool me,″ she pointed at herself, a smug look on her face. ‟Angel sees all.″

Tim sighed in vexation. ‟Just mind you own business, Ange.″

‟Business? I have no business. I've just been sitting at home for the past month, nobody to talk to. I was so bored, I actually considered joining a religion. The least you can do for me is let me in on some prime romantic entanglements. I haven't had sex in so long, even hearing about a straight couple is something.″

He turned back to his desk in silence.

‟Oh, come on! If you're not going to let me into the field, at least give me something to get my mind off my boredom.″

Tim sighed as he sat down. ‟I –‟ but, thank the heavens, his phone cut him off. Angel looked extremely disappointed.

‟Boss,″ Matt said, ‟we got the warrant. You ready?″

‟On my way.″ He looked at Angel with a falsely sympathetic face. ‟Sorry, sweetie. Looks like you'll have to bother someone else if you're bored. I hear Bobby's got a new cat named Thumbelina. Why don't you ask him about that.″

She actually looked intrigued.

The two men were exactly where Charlotte said they would be. They pulled up in front of a boat by the name of _The Sphinx, _and exited the car.

Amy cracked her knuckles comically and looked to McGee. ‟So, how are we going to do this? I've never arrested someone on a boat before.″

McGee sighed exasperatedly. ‟_You _are going to stay here and wait for us to come back. I meant it when I said 'observe.'″

She looked disappointed. ‟Well, what if one of them gets past you?″

He rolled his eyes, looking as Matt adjusted his handcuffs. ‟If, by some chance, one of them gets past both of us and out the one exit to the boat, then, yes. You may get them.″

She nodded, eyes alert with anticipation. ‟Right. Good luck.″

‟Thanks. Come on, Jericho.″

The two men fit the description exactly. McGee and Matt took them into custody without very much effort. They took them back to NCIS and placed them into separate interrogation rooms.

‟So what do you say, Boss?″ Angel asked him as they, Matt and Amy stood in the hallway outside of the rooms. ‟I could go in there and throw them off with my womanly charms, and then you can go and take them down.″ She waggled her eyebrows. ‟Come on. You know that's perfect.″

She did this every time. ‟Angel,″ he said, long-sufferingly. ‟I think Matt and I can handle it. I need you to try and show Amy what to look for.″

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. ‟I would trust no one else to talk as much as you. Surely, Amy can manage to get something useful out of it.″

* * *

><p>So Angel stood in the observation room, arms crossed and glaring at the back of McGee's head. Amy stood next to her, hands on the bottom frame of the window, and nose less then an inch away from the glass. She gazed intently at the scene before her.<p>

‟So...″ Angel said, and Amy looked to her. ‟Why'd you get into law enforcement?″

‟What?″

‟Well, surely there were better options. No staying up late checking out lead. Something with no risk of getting shot every time you go into the field. Why this?″

Amy blinked at the rapid slew of words. ‟Oh, uh, well... I don't know.″ She looked back to the interrogation room. McGee was staring silently at the suspect, waiting for him to make the first move. ‟I just wanted to do better than everybody thought that I would.″

‟What is that supposed to mean?″

‟I – well, I didn't come from the best family, and so nobody really expected me to achieve anything. And law enforcement is really... I don't know. Noble.″

‟Noble?″

‟Yeah.″

‟You wanted to be noble″

‟Yes.″ She looked back up to Angel.

Angel shrugged. ‟Fair enough.″ She turned her back to the glass and continued to stare at Amy. ‟But why NCIS?″

‟More variety.″

‟Ever killed anyone?″

Her eyes widened at the abrupt question. ‟Um... No.″

‟Ever been shot at?″

‟Yes.″

‟Get shot?″

‟No.″

‟Did you shoot back?″

‟Yes.″

‟Do you have a boyfriend?″

‟Not right now.″

‟Ever been with a woman before?″ Angel asked, turning her body more towards Amy.

‟No.″ Amy squared off with her.

‟Were you bullied in high school?″

‟No. And I didn't bully anyone, in case that's your next question.″

‟Sports?″

‟Track.″

‟Music?″

‟Blues.″

‟Favorite color?″

‟Purple.″

‟How do you feel about – ″

The door to the observation room suddenly flew open, snapping their attention to it. McGee stood there, looking like he could murder them both. ‟Would you two keep it down? You're screwing up my interrogation.″

‟Yes, Boss.″

‟Sorry.″

**AN**: If you're reading this, thank you sooo much for sticking with me. I know it's tough trying to read a story that never gets updated, but you're really great for trying. I'll be working on chapter sixteen, which seems to be the one that is really giving me trouble. I think that after that, I've got the ending pretty well planned out and it should go off pretty smoothly. Thanks for reading!


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